Harry Potter and the Mermish Starflower
by chudleycannonsnumber1
Summary: Minister Shacklebolt advises Harry, Ron, and Hermione to take their N.E.W.T.s before they start Auror training. When saving the world isn't enough, they're forced to have another mad year at Hogwarts. Sequel to Tale of Gladimus.
1. From Strangers to Grangers

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any relation to its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

Rating: T for violence, innuendo and swearing.

Some more info: This is about Harry and the gang returning to Hogwarts for their final year. Due to the events of Harry Potter and the Tale of Gladimus, Ron has become a werewolf and George has some new friends.

* * *

The heavy wooden door of the small Australian pub swung open, and three sweaty teenagers stepped into the cool, air-conditioned room. The shortest of the three, a girl with untamable bushy hair and brown eyes, was fanning her neck with an open hand and heading over to a table alongside a tall, gangly redhead with a long nose and freckles to spare. The two sat down next to each other at a table for four, both basking in the remedy of the pub's air conditioning.

Hermione placed her arm around Ron and soothingly massaged his shoulder. He looked murky and ill, almost dead; his teeth had darkened to a waxy color and were coated in salivary slime, his hair was an unusually drab shade of red, and his fingernails were bruised and slightly crusted with blood. He had clearly just undergone a transformation, and none too cleanly.

Before long, the bespectacled boy with jet-black hair that had entered the pub with them returned with three Muggle beers and placed them down the battered wooden table before taking his seat. Ron took one and inspected the label.

"Gruberhof?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah, it's a Muggle beer. I've ordered some hamburgers too."

Ron's stomach growled hungrily at the mention of food. Harry turned to Hermione with a slight frown.

"How are we going to find your parents?"

"I know the pseudonyms they've gone under," replied Hermione, beaming with excitement. "I created them."

A young waitress approached with a tray of burgers and fries. Harry thanked her and received a nervous smile before she turned to Ron who had already made short work of most of his fries. He looked up at her and offered a sheepish grin, and her eyes widened a bit before she trotted off hurriedly.

Ron looked around at the two sniggering teenagers near him, his brows tensed in confusion.

"What have I done?"

"Your teeth, Wolf-Man," chuckled Harry.

"Oh," mumbled Ron with a frown.

"By the way, Ron, Kingsley's told me that I ought to finish my seventh year at Hogwarts before starting Auror training, and he said to tell you the same," mentioned Harry before taking a bite into his burger, prompting a response.

"Haven't you learned enough?" asked Ron. He then took a swig of beer, and spit it out onto the table, groaning, "Agh, that's disgusting!"

"He said we'd need it," replied Harry, ignoring the outburst, as Ron hastened to coat the spill with napkins.

"McGonagall mentioned that all seventh-year students of the previous year will be allowed to re-take their seventh year," said Hermione while nibbling on a fry.

"Don't want to go back," blurted Ron. Hermione perked up.

"Why not?"

"Feel like I've got nothing to learn."

"The Minister for Magic says differently!"

"Oh, right, now that he's the Minister for Magic—" began Ron defiantly, but Hermione cast him a scathing look, as if his questioning the prestige of the position was a crime against nature.

"Things are different now—Kingsley is an excellent minister, and he'll be the one helping you into Auror camp, so you'd best take his advice."

"She's got a point," observed Harry. "Besides, could you two stand to be apart for ten months?"

Ron scoffed at Harry's sly smirk. "Ginny's going too, you know."

"Then it's settled," decided Hermione. "It'll be nice to have one more peaceful year."

"Definitely," agreed Harry, chomping down on the last bite of his burger.

The television set hanging in the corner of the bar caught Harry's attention, and he pointed it out to Ron and Hermione. It displayed a boxing match between a particularly burly fighter with pasty white skin and blue gloves and a slightly smaller, but more muscular man with red gloves. Not two seconds after they'd started watching, the big blue-gloved boxer delivered a powerful uppercut that sent the other to the floor. He did not get up.

"Nice one!" cheered Ron.

"Such a barbaric sport," said Hermione with a scowl. Harry and Ron shared a look and grinned; they'd seen Hermione throw more punches than anyone they knew.

"Cleaned his clock," cheered Ron.

Harry's eyes widened and he gripped Ron's elbow. They had just caught a glimpse of the winner's face.

"Oi!" exclaimed Harry. "That's Dudley!"

"Right-o," grumbled an unkempt man from a stool at the bar. "That's Dudley Dursley. Major sensation."

"At least he's not working at Grunnings," mumbled Harry as he, Ron, and Hermione paid for their meal and walked out into the sweltering heat.

Hermione led them to her parents' address in no time, and they soon arrived at a simple and handsome house with a neatly kept garden. The suburban area reminded Harry unpleasantly of Little Whinging, as each house and yard was a near clone of the one beside it. Hermione and Harry had no trouble dressing in Muggle clothing, and Ron was catching on, but wasn't quite there, with his white button-up shirt hanging over green camouflage pants that bunched up at his heels where they were tucked into his brown boots.

When they arrived at the door, Hermione stepped forward and turned to the two boys, clearing her throat as if about to establish ground rules.

"Alright," she began. "Hopefully, they'll be set back to how they were last year. I've told them all about you two, so they know of our exploits—well, I guess you could say an _abridged_ version that glosses over the more life-threatening bits—with the exception of last year, obviously."

"So they won't know I saved your life?" Ron asked. "Because that might be an important thing for them to bear in mind when you're telling them you're going out with a werewolf!"

"Oh, they do, they know all about you. The good and the bad. Now," she continued, as Ron gulped, obviously contemplating the 'bad.' "Harry, you are not to make jokes about Ron and I. Ron, please keep your hands to yourself until I've told them we're together."

Ron's ears had caught fire, and Harry sniggered lightly. But, all intentions to be as horrible as possible disappeared from Harry's mind when he looked back at Hermione; tears were spilling down her cheeks fully now. Ron immediately broke Hermione's hands-off policy and wrapped an arm around her.

"Don't cry, Hermione, you're bringing them back," he said. "It's okay, they've made it, they're safe, and they'll be happy the fight's over."

Harry thought Ron was being very comforting, but then Hermione burst into heavy sobs and buried her face into Ron's shirt. Harry patted her back awkwardly as she murmured something that was muffled by Ron's chest.

"It's just..." she said heavily as she pulled away. "I just—they didn't even know—they wouldn't have ever known, if something had happened to me, I'd have taken myself from them! How could I?"

"That didn't happen," said Harry, as Ron held her still. "A lot of horrible things happened in the war, but we made it, and your parents are alive and well—they're doing very well, actually, judging by this beautiful house."

Hermione sniffed, gathering up her nerves, and turned back to face the house.

"Thank you," she said. "And if you don't mind, please keep the use of magic to a minimum."

At that, she turned and approached Wendell and Monica Wilkins' door and rang the bell. Harry and Ron followed. A middle-aged man opened the door and observed the three teenagers' awkward smiles with a frown.

"Hello," said the man, clearly confused. "Can I help you?"

"_Finite Incantatem!_"

Immediately after being struck by Hermione's spell, the man's expression of confusion vanished. The sudden change reminded Harry of Ron drinking the Love Potion antidote and suddenly realizing that he wasn't in love with Romilda Vane. The man's gaze shifted from Hermione, to Ron, to Harry.

"Oh, hello, Hermione—and you're Harry and Ron, aren't you?" said the man kindly. "My, it's broiling out here, do come inside."

Hermione sniffed, trying to hold back her tears, but soon motioned for Harry and Ron to follow her. Inside, the walls were a calm taupe, and there was no shortage of shiny, reflective polished wood. Not only were the three teenagers scanning the brilliant home, but its owner was as well. Mr. Granger was looking around as if he had never seen the interior of the house in which he had lived for the past year.

"Where am I?" asked Mr. Granger before he turned to Hermione. "Hermione, dear?"

"It's m-magic stuff, Dad," said Hermione. "I'll explain when Mum is here, if you'll just call her—but don't use her name, say 'Monica.'"

Mr. Granger was taken aback by Hermione's instructions, but seemed to respect that it had something to do with magic he didn't understand and shouted his wife's false name. Mr. Granger's voice echoed through the halls of his large house, and moments later a slim woman with a bushy head of hair walked in. Harry and Ron stood quietly as Hermione finally smiled.

"What is it, dear? Who are—"

With another wave of Hermione's wand and utterance of the spellbreaking incantation, Mrs. Granger's awareness was triggered and she greeted the three brightly before beginning to ask questions similar to her husband's.

"Perhaps we'd better sit down for this one," suggested Harry, and they found their way to a vast living room that extended to an open kitchen and a fireplace on the other end, with sliding glass doors leading to a patio in the garden outside. "Oh, I'll make tea."

Harry stepped into the kitchen area to do so while Ron and Hermione settled down with Mr. and Mrs. Granger on the soft cream-colored armchairs that surrounded the coffee table by the fireplace.

"One year ago, the second Wizard War began with the death of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore," explained Hermione, determined to stop her flow of tears. "And I—"

"No!" breathed Mr. Granger. "Albus is dead?"

"Yes."

"But he was supposed to be the strongest wizard on the planet!" said Mr. Granger, looking to his wife in shock, then back to Hermione. "I trusted him with your safety, even with that Valdemar character running around!"

"Voldemort," corrected Ron promptly. He had been flexing his readiness to speak the Dark Lord's name ever since he witnessed Voldemort's death.

"He was the most powerful wizard of his time," assured Hermione. "Perhaps of all time."

"But he lost?"

"No, he didn't lose..."

"But he was killed!"

"He was only human," said Harry as he returned with a tray of teacups and an ornate sky blue teapot with golden flower designs. "It's because Voldemort sealed his soul within seven objects so that he would stay alive even if his body died—"

"And Albus did the same?" asked Mrs. Granger hopefully. "Then he isn't _really_ dead?"

"No, he's —" Harry sighed. "He's gone."

"The objects that contained the pieces of Voldemort's soul are called Horcruxes," continued Hermione. "These Horcruxes became evil with the presence of his soul, and contained powerful curses. One of the objects happened to be a legendary ring that was said to be able to resurrect the dead."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger leaned in, their interest clearly piqued, as Hermione continued.

"When Dumbledore was young, well, something happened—"

"His boyfriend killed his sister," blurted Ron before taking a sip of tea.

"Ron, that's just a theory," said Hermione exasperatedly. "For all we know, they were just friends."

"I say they were on," said Harry. "And why shouldn't he be gay, he's never had a wife..."

"I think the important part is that his sister was killed," snapped Hermione, inciting a guilty look from Harry and Ron.

"Right," continued Harry. "He wore the ring to try and bring his sister back, but Voldemort's curse harmed him. He didn't have much more time left, so he designed his own death to ingratiate his spy, Professor Snape, with Voldemort. The plan was a success, and Snape was able to help us defeat him."

"_Us?_" asked Mrs. Granger. "You three?"

"Yes, Dumbledore trusted us, and us alone, with the task. Few knew of how to destroy him, or even that it was possible."

"This is where you come in," said Hermione nervously, preparing for the worst. "Shortly before embarking on the quest to collect the pieces of Voldemort's soul, I modified your memories and sent you here. We're in Australia, where you've been living under the pseudonyms Wendell and Monica Wilkins for the past year, as Harry, Ron, and I fought in the war."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger weren't outraged or furious, but shocked. Mr. Granger sputtered a response as he tried to digest the information.

"Please," urged Hermione. "I only did it to keep you safe! You know what we've done thusfar at Hogwarts—we've sort of become 'the trio,' and as such, we were at the top of Voldemort's hit list! I had to protect you in case his followers came after you... Harry, Ron, and I went from camp to camp, constantly on the go, scavenging food and fending for ourselves as we searched for the Horcruxes. We finally defeated him two months ago, and the world is safe."

"Hermione, I—" began Mr. Granger, but he simply stopped mid-sentence, appearing gobsmacked. "Wait, did you say you went camping, alone, with two teenage boys, for an entire year—"

"So, you three saved the world!" breathed Mrs. Granger. Mr. Granger huffed.

"We had a lot of help," said Harry. "The whole wizarding world was fighting—we were simply the three carrying out Dumbledore's mission to destroy Voldemort."

"Hermione, I—" began Mr. Granger again, but he hesitated, trying to think of what to say. He finally settled on "I'm proud of you."

Hermione beamed for a second before Mr. Granger's smile faded.

"But really!" he snarled. "Giving us amnesia and flying us off to bloody Australia to live under the hot sun with the spiders—"

"Spiders?" demanded Ron.

"Yes, Australia is known for its deadly spiders."

"You might have mentioned that, Hermione!" barked Ron. Hermione shrank a bit in her seat.

"We were in a war!" pleaded Hermione. "I wanted you as far away from the danger as possible!"

"It's alright, dear," said Mrs. Granger calmly. Hermione appreciated her composure.

"IT IS NOT ALRIGHT!" barked Mr. Granger. "Our seventeen-year-old daughter did _not_ need to risk her life in some Wizarding war! I don't care if Albus thought so—he was barking mad if he did!"

"It sounds like she was needed," said Mrs. Granger quickly, perhaps noticing the never-insult-Albus-Dumbledore-in-front-of-me look on Harry's face. "So, is everything safe now? Can we return to England?"

"Sort of in a rebuilding state," said Ron as Mr. Granger seemed to calm down. He went back to narrowing his eyes at Hermione over the issue of Australian spiders as she smiled at him apologetically. "But yeah, things are a lot better."

"I'll stay here with you for a while, but I've got to return to the Burrow soon," said Hermione to her parents. "I've got to go back to Hogwarts over the school year as well."

"Alright," Mr. Granger agreed reluctantly.

"Brilliant!" chimed Harry. "By the way, Ron and Hermione had a snog during the final battle, which was the apex of many, many years of romantic tension, and now they're blissfully together."

Harry said this in a hurry then began to sip his tea innocently, his eyes darting from Ron and Hermione to the Grangers.

"_Harry!_" groaned Ron, as Hermione suddenly became very interested in one of the legs of the coffee table, her cheeks nearly as red as Ron's ears. Ron turned to offer Hermione's parents a weak smile, but soon realized it was a mistake.

"My god, boy, what's happened to your teeth?" asked Mr. Granger. "Do wizards have no regard for dental hygiene?"

Mr. Granger was rapped lightly on the shoulder by Mrs. Granger as Ron looked to the floor.

"It's no surprise, really, is it? She wrote to us about his saving her life and the school several times," said Mrs. Granger to her husband, who was looking mildly irked. "Hermione and I have discussed it—girl talk, you know."

Mr. Granger was eyeing Ron skeptically, while Mrs. Granger wore a warm smile. Hermione was concentrating on the ground, and Ron was shifting uncomfortably. Harry hid his grin behind his teacup as a few moments' silence passed.

"This one's got better teeth," concluded Mr. Granger, pointing to Harry, who gave a winning smile.

"Dad, Ron's teeth are fine," said Hermione exasperatedly.

"Fine—I've seen more white in the inside of a coffin—"

"When were you inside a coffin?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"What's that accent, anyway?" continued Mr. Granger. "It's almost Cockney..."

"Don't you dare make presumptions of Ron's intelligence," said Hermione; she had attempted to sound affronted but couldn't hide her teary smile. Harry suspected this was a discussion she had envisioned having with her parents long before fighting in the war. "I'll have you know Ron could play chess on a Rubik's cube and succeed at both," she affirmed.

Ron blinked in confusion, unsure of what a 'Rubik's cube' was, but remained silent.

"He's a werewolf," Hermione mentioned, while Ron looked up, gauging their reactions.

"Is that bad?"

"Well, it's the reason his teeth are like that. He's just transformed the other night, and he's always looking a bit—er—messy, let's say, after a transformation. His teeth will be back to normal in a day or two."

"So, a werewolf curse is actually just a dental issue?"

"No," replied Hermione with a chuckle, dismissing the notion with a wave of her hand. "He transforms into a wolf once per month, on the night of the full moon, but as long as we give him Wolfsbane Potion he remains tame, so it's harmless. Not terribly convenient, but harmless."

"So," began Mr. Granger, staring off into space. "I've been living in Australia this past year with magical amnesia while my daughter risked her life in a war with the world at stake, and now she's going out with her friend Ron, who is a werewolf."

"Correct."

"So, will my grandchildren be werewolves too, then?" Mr. Granger asked smoothly.

Harry widened his eyes, Ron gulped nervously, and Hermione narrowed her eyes at her father. Harry struggled to contain his laughter while Hermione turned to Ron and they shared a significant look. Hermione turned to face her father, determination in her eyes.

"No, they'll only be cursed with bright red hair and freckles," stated Hermione calmly. "And I'll not answer any more questions about Ron."

The trio spent the night giving Mr. and Mrs. Granger the detailed story of the final year of the war. Surprisingly, Harry had no difficulties retelling the tale, no matter how tragic it was, and had a habit of smacking his knee in a manner that reminded Ron and Hermione of Sirius. Nothing seemed to get Harry down after all traces of Voldemort's soul were removed from him.

"And _then_ the little son of a Flobberworm decides to strip to his knickers and hop into the frozen lake with a bloody Horcrux around his neck!" said Ron hysterically.

At this point, drinks had been shared between the Grangers and the trio, and the Grangers were immersed in the story.

"No!" said Mr. Granger.

"You think that's funny?" said Harry. "Wait 'till you hear what happens next."

"Harry!" warned Ron. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"What did happen next?" she asked. Her tone told them they were already under suspicion.

"Not something I want to say here," said Ron. "I mean, I can't relive it, it's too painful."

"Bollocks!" chuckled Harry. "You just don't want to because—"

"_Silencio_," interrupted Ron with a small wave of his wand. Harry huffed silently. "Well it's been a lovely time, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger. We'd best be off. See you soon, Hermione."

Ron grabbed Harry and Disapparated before Hermione could protest.


	2. The Mermish Starflower

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any relation to its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

Ron stepped into the doorway of the room he shared with Harry, looking down at his bespectacled best friend. With his towering height and the golden light prickling through his ginger hair from the window behind him, he looked like a tree in autumn. Ron flashed Harry a grin and gestured to his chest; he was wearing a tuxedo.

"Yeah?" asked Ron.

"No."

"Why not? I thought Muggles wore these things."

"On special occasions."

"This is a special occasion."

"Really, Ron, she's only been gone two weeks."

"Yeah, but it's different, now we're together, y'know."

Harry rolled his green eyes and turned to descend the stairs, which whined in a series of noisy creaks, while Ron retreated to his room to change. Ron tossed a simple white t-shirt over his chest and stepped into his leaf camouflage pants before trotting down the stairs. He stopped in front of the door to Ginny's room, which had a big crack and several black burns from one of Fred and George's loose fireworks.

"I'm giving you five seconds to get dressed," joked Ron as he knocked on the door, though he found himself wincing at the thought.

"Come in," said Ginny's voice from within.

Ron stepped into the room, looking suspicious. It was a hot, sunny day and a shard of sunlight slanted across the floor through the window. Ron found Harry sitting casually on Hermione's bed, and saw Ginny laying in her own. As he'd not heard any shuffling upon knocking, he guessed that they were just sitting and talking.

"She'll be here any minute," said Ron with excitement.

"George is coming tonight too," said Ginny, sounding anxious.

"'Bout time, he's been giving Mum a right scare."

"You know what this means, don't you?" said Harry as he sat up, and the two Weasleys turned their heads to see an eager grin form across his face. "There'll be a feast tonight."

Ron considered Harry's prediction, and grinned wickedly at the thought. Before long, his eyes began darting between his best friend and his sister.

"So, are you two..."

Harry raised his eyebrows, and before Ron could ask any more, there was a sound out in the yard that Ron recognized as a closing car door. Ron rushed to the window to see a bushy brown head of hair shimmering in the sunlight as the girl underneath it approached The Burrow, followed by a large ginger cat. Harry opened the door and stepped aside, knowing better than to block Ron's path.

Ron dashed down the stairs and towards the front door, weaving through furniture. He stopped short of the door and regained his composure, attempting to look casual. Once he heard a light knock on the door, he waited a moment, then turned the knob and pulled it open. Unable to stop his treacherous cheeks and ears from burning red, he stepped back to admit her.

She stood for a moment, beaming at him, before closing the gap between them and tossing her arms around his neck. He embraced her tightly as he heard Harry and Ginny amble down the stairs.

"Camo again?" asked Hermione as she stepped back.

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?" said Ron, slightly affronted. "It's like a permanent Disillusionment charm for your legs—constant vigilance and all."

"Oh, yes, Ron, he'd be so proud," joked Ginny as she approached and received her hug from Hermione.

"How are your parents?" asked Ginny while Harry and Ron stepped out to fetch Hermione's luggage from the taxi.

"Quite well, considering what they've been through," replied Hermione as the group walked toward the kitchen. "Although, they've made a habit of making sure I'm always in their sights."

Ron began to respond, but was interrupted as a large barn owl swept through the window and dropped a small piece of parchment on the kitchen table, then made a graceful turn and shot out through a different window. Ron unfolded the note and read it, before passing it on to Harry.

* * *

_Hey, Ron, come by my gran's house, and soon! Before the start of the school year!_

_- Neville_

* * *

"What's that about?" asked Ron.

Harry shrugged before passing the note on.

"Perhaps he'd like to join us in Diagon Alley when we buy our school supplies?" suggested Ginny.

Hermione withdrew a quill and bit of parchment from her bag and scribbled a small note onto it. She folded it and called Pigwidgeon to deliver it, and soon the fluttering ball of feathers soared out of the window and disappeared into the sky.

The day passed by quickly, full of merry chatter and Wizard's Chess, until Mr. Weasley arrived and Mrs. Weasley began preparing dinner. Apparently, Harry was right, because she'd asked for help from Ginny and Hermione. Harry, Ron, and Mr. Weasley were to set tables outside, like they had done during the summer before the Quidditch World Cup.

"I should really get to helping with dinner," said Hermione, as she tilted her head back to give Ron access to her neck; they'd crossed paths in the garage while searching for cooking supplies and became distracted.

"I'm not stopping you."

"Oh, yes you are."

"Ease up, it's been two weeks."

As they stepped out of the garage, they saw Harry brandishing his wand and using the Locomotor charm to transport the kitchen's heavy wooden tables to the yard, and Ron went to collect silverware and plates with his father. Once the tables were set along a barren patch of land next to the Burrow under the twilit sky, Mr. Weasley turned to Harry and patted him on the shoulder.

"You're a man now, Harry," said Mr. Weasley. "And as such, I'd like you to call me Arthur from now on."

"Alright," replied Harry with a smile. "Does Molly feel the same way?"

"Are you kidding?" said Ginny as she approached with the first of many platters of food. "You called her 'Mum' the other day by accident and she looked like Christmas came early."

Molly walked out to the assemblage of tables carrying a tray with a big roast turkey, which was moist and golden, and surrounded in chopped potatoes, onions, and gravy. She was followed by a young Centaur girl, whose wavy cinnamon-colored hair was swishing back and forth as she walked toward the table, carrying a tray of desserts.

"Helinora!" exclaimed Harry. "I haven't seen you in weeks."

She approached Ron, who crouched to her level and embraced her, before she turned to Harry.

"George has me working at the shop, in the stock room—I attract attention otherwise, you see."

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "You ought to be able to live among humans without any problem. It's ignorance at its worst."

Ron wandered out of the group and into the field adjacent to the Burrow. He saw a man with a vibrant orange head of hair standing before a fresh tombstone. As he approached, Ron could make out the sparkle of tears on the man's cheeks, shining in the moonlight.

"How are you feeling?" asked Ron quietly.

George stood eerily still for a few moments, before turning to face his brother, his eyes still waterlogged.

"Like I'm alone for the first time in my life," he responded. "By myself... I've never had to face anything without him."

Ron shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. He felt a pang in his chest as his gaze met his brother's tombstone, but was determined not to show it. His family and friends depended on him being the one not to cry. George turned back to the grave.

"Silly tradition, funerals... I feel like this grave is mocking me, like it exists to remind me of what I don't have."

The next few seconds consisted of a dark silence.

"Mum made turkey," Ron said finally. George snorted.

"Excellent."

* * *

Ron returned with George, who was immediately made to endure a bone-crushing hug from his mother before he was offered a seat. Basking in his new peaceful life, Harry scanned his company happily: Molly was smiling weakly in George's direction, Ron and Hermione were flirting playfully next to Harry, and across the table, Ginny and George were conversing about the shop.

"How are things going at the Ministry, Arthur?" asked Hermione.

"It's utter chaos," replied Arthur. "As you can imagine."

"It'll die down soon," assured Molly. "Now the war's over, it's only a matter of time."

"Hopefully, but for now it's bedlam. Percy couldn't come tonight because of it. He's requisitioned to be placed in my office, as my assistant, you know."

"Coming from Percy, that's the highest compliment," said George with a grin, displaying a mouthful of potatoes.

"It was a nice gesture." Arthur smiled. "Kingsley's blocked it, though, he needs Percy on his personal staff for now."

"How's Kingsley as Minister?" asked Ron, before he subjected a large drumstick to complete carnage.

"Impressive, the way he's on top of things. You wouldn't believe it, the multitasking ability that man has. He's also quite annoyed with the behavior of some of the Ministry officials. He's gone and sacked Dolores Umbridge, and now she's facing charges of crimes against Muggleborns."

There was a collective sigh of satisfaction across the table.

"How are you settling in with George?" asked Hermione to Helinora.

"It's difficult," she began. "I can't go out to run much, but George and Lee and Angie make sure I have fun."

"You should have seen their faces," said George with a chuckle. "We're very busy, too—the re-opening was great, and people are gobbling up our new line of Battle-Axe Bandit products."

"How are the Bandits?" asked Harry.

"They're fine. Off to Hogwarts this year, in fact. I'm also working on something that's not to do with the joke shop, but I can't divulge the details now—by the time I can do, you'll already know what it is."

"That's, er, nice, George," said Molly, looking concerned.

"Why aren't you a wolf?" asked Helinora from across the table, staring at Ron.

Ron glanced up at the bright, clear moon overhead. His smile faded, and he looked around the table toward the young Centaur girl.

"My transformations have steadied since I've stopped resisting," he replied. "Now it's only the night of the full moon, and the Wolfsbane works wonders."

"Oh!" said Hermione, realization dawning on her face. "Ron, I'll not be able to prepare your potion during the school year, it's so much work. With N.E.W.T.s to worry about, I won't have the time... I've owled McGonagall requesting permission to use the Shrieking Shack."

"Oh, that'll be fun," grumbled Ron with a pout.

"Do people still think it's haunted?" said Harry. "There hasn't really been any shrieking going on there for a long time."

"There will be if Hermione joins him," joked George with a waggle of the eyebrows, his grin returning. Hermione's eyes widened and she looked away, her cheeks growing pink, and Ron narrowed his eyes at his brother. Molly raised an eyebrow, and Harry and Ginny were reduced to sniggering.

"Oi!" exclaimed Harry in mock-disgust. "I'm eating here!"

"Wonder how McGonagall will run the school," said Ron when the laughter died down, eager to change the subject.

"I know she'll be brilliant," said Hermione. "She respected Dumbledore so much, she wouldn't differ too greatly with his methods."

"Minerva may be a bit strict," said Molly. "But that's a good thing. We can't have any more children chasing Basilisks into the Chamber of Secrets, or crashing cars into the Whomping Willow, and Merlin only knows the extent of your rule-breaking, George."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were staring at their plates, their cheeks painted with varying shades of ruby. George grinned and raised his glass.

"To mischief!" he said, before downing his pumpkin juice.

* * *

A slumbering Ron Weasley awoke not to the sound of Harry's snoring, someone walking down the stairs or even the sounds of the house itself swaying in the wind, but to a shriek from downstairs that was so loud it threatened to crack every window of The Burrow. He bolted to his feet and glanced toward Harry's bed to confirm that it was empty before hurrying through the room and jogging down the stairs.

He rushed downstairs and found Hermione staring wide-eyed at a page of parchment clasped tightly in her hand. Flanking her were Harry and Ginny, both inspecting their own letters. Hermione spotted Ron and dashed to him, throwing her arms around him and nearly knocking him over. Ron glanced at his smirking sister and best friend quizzically, and Harry held up a badge in the shape of a shield that featured a lion, a badger, a serpent, and an eagle on its corners and a large golden _H_ at its center.

"Congratulations," said Ron, stepping back from Hermione's grip. She beamed at him proudly and thrust an off-white page of parchment to him.

"You too."

Ron unfolded it and saw another badge, and inspected it closely to see _Head Boy_ engraved along its top edge. His eyes scanned the letter, which contained a list of books and a small hand-written note at the bottom.

* * *

_You may use the Shrieking Shack once each month to help with your condition. You've also received an Award for Special Services to the School. Congratulations, Mr. Weasley._

_- M. McGonagall_

* * *

"No bloody way," breathed Ron. "_Me?_"

"Of course," said Harry. "Who else?"

"You, you git."

Ron sat down on the couch, staring at his badge, and was soon joined by Harry, Ginny, and Hermione.

"Oh, don't worship it, Ron, you're starting to look like Percy," mused Harry. "Oh, and I've also received another Award for Special Services to the School."

"Another?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah," said Ron. "We both got one for going down into the Chamber of Secrets, second year, remember?"

Hermione pouted, clearly annoyed, as she was petrified by a Basilisk during that particular adventure.

"What, is one not enough for you?" joked Ginny.

"Oh, of course it is!" said Hermione, before she tugged on Ron's hand, urgently signaling for him to stand.

She pinned his Head Boy badge to his pyjama shirt and dragged him along to the front yard where Molly was retrieving eggs from the chickens. This activity unfortunately brought her near Fred's grave, and she'd always return noticeably sullen. She was approaching the house, looking gloomy, when she spotted Ron, Hermione, and Ron's new badge. Her face lit up and she gently placed the basket of eggs aside to free her hands, then grasped Ron in a firm hug.

"I knew it, Ronnie!" she said. "Even with Harry Potter in your year, you're Head Boy!"

Ron's cheeks grew maroon, from both embarrassment and suffocation. Molly loosened her grip and stepped back, giving him a few seconds to catch his breath, before turning to Hermione and giving her a tight squeeze as well.

"I'm proud of both of you," she said as she released Hermione. "That's three Head Boys in the family, and, perhaps soon, one Head Girl."

She winked to Hermione once before retrieving her basket and strolling inside. Ron shook his head with an amused smile; his mother had been dropping hints about he and Hermione ever since she returned from Australia. Hermione laughed lightly and turned to face Ron.

"Get dressed, we're due at Neville's."

* * *

With four rapid _*cracks*_ echoing through the valley beside them, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny appeared at a dirt road that stretched over a large hill on the outskirts of a town, in front of a handsome white house. Next to the house was a large glass structure with many plants filling it to its ceiling like a big green cloud. The group of teenagers ambled through the front yard which was dotted with green light that prickled through the foliage of the trees high above.

"Neville's got a beautiful home," remarked Hermione as they arrived at the entrance to Neville's greenhouse and peered inside.

The greenhouse was a jungle of green, with patches of colorful flowers, rows of young trees, and urgent insects buzzing about the scene. Walking down the main path in the greenhouse was a round-faced boy wearing thick dragon-hide yardwork gloves. He smiled brightly at the group and motioned for them to open the door and enter. As they entered, they immediately whiffed a zesty mixture of scents from the various plants around them.

Neville greeted the group, received his due hugs and pats on the back, and started guiding them down the main path of the greenhouse, pointing out several plants along the way.

"Those are Bewitch-Me-Nots," he said, pointing at a square of yellow flowers with thin petals. "The petals are resistant to minor spells."

"Could be useful," observed Harry.

"Not that we need it," added Ron slyly.

"That's a Piranha Patch," identified Neville as they passed a group of chattering plants similar in appearance to the Venus Flytrap, which seemed to have been purposefully placed a good distance away from the other plants. "You plant them where you don't want things to walk."

"Oh, so that's what they're for," said Ginny, oozing with sarcasm. "And here I'd thought you were supposed to hand them out on Valentine's Day."

"Oh, watch out, Harry." Neville smirked. "Those are Fairystick Flowers. They attract butterflies, so they make a good gift."

They reached the end of the path, and came across a massive stone pot that was filled with soil, and, at its center, a tiny red leaf protruded from the dirt.

"Igneus Viridis," said Neville matter-of-factly. "Burning Green. It'll bloom in about fifty years. It's in the same family as the Piranha plants, and it breathes fire like a dragon."

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "Why would you want one—and after fifty years—that'll take forever!"

"I think it'll actually just take about fifty years," said Hermione.

"I'll be right back," said Neville. "If something sprays you, come get me."

"Oh, that's nice," said Harry bitterly, with memories of Cho finding him in his compartment on the Hogwarts Express while he was covered in Stinksap.

"Well, someone's getting a Herbology N.E.W.T.," said Ginny with a smile.

Before long, Neville returned with an ornate jade pot that was small enough to carry with one hand. It was home to a ghostly transparent flower, which was white at its center, with five crisp, silvery-blue triangular petals at the end of a thin, swerving stem. Harry thought it almost looked like a blue Patronus.

"Ron, Hermione told me you'd become a bloodthirsty beast," said Neville, grinning. "By sheer luck, I found this Mermish Starflower. Its petals will curl when the full moon is near, so you'll have a good warning in case you forget."

"Wow," breathed Hermione. "That's very thoughtful, Neville!"

"It's nothing," said Neville. He carefully passed the jade pot to Hermione. "Make sure to water it once every two days before bed. I can do it once we're at school."

"Thanks," said Ron with a smile. "You've gotten really good at this."

"Ah, yes," said Neville, his voice a bit deeper. He turned his back to them and placed a hand on the rim of the large Burning Green pot. "I can teach you to infect the mind and sting the senses, I can tell you how to seed fame, bud glory—"

"Thanks, Neville, but we really should get going to Diagon Alley," interrupted Harry as he glanced around at his friends, who were all on the verge of laughter.

Neville turned to them with a pronounced frown.

"Yeah, you're right, let's go."

"It was good, though."


	3. Diaganilly

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any relation to its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville arrived at the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron; it served as a barrier between Muggle London and Diagon Alley. With a tap of the wand, the bricks detached and reformed on their own to create an opening through which they could enter. Harry smiled appreciatively at the sight; recently, Harry had been impressed with aspects of the magical world that everyone else was accustomed to. Ron and Hermione attributed this to Harry being free of any remnants of Voldemort's mangled soul.

"Where to first?" asked Ginny.

"Flourish and Blotts," said Hermione, and she received a few appraising looks from Ron and Harry. "It's closest, all right!"

"Right," said Ron, his eyes shifting toward Hermione's beaded handbag. "Can we use your bag?"

"Yes, of course, but you know you could simply charm your own bags in the same way."

"You could do it for me."

"I could, but then how will you learn?"

"Okay, fine, I'll just use yours."

"Flourish and Blotts, then?" Neville interjected, spotting Hermione's narrowed eyes. "Professor Sprout's recommended Fifty Three Things You Probably Shouldn't Know About Mushrooms."

They made their way through the crowd to Flourish and Blotts Book Store. The teenagers soon noticed several pairs of eyes following them. A good portion of the passersby recognized them, gasping and pointing them out to friends.

"Harry Potter!"

"It's Dumbledore's Army, they're together—"

"Except that other girl—Loony was her name, I think—"

"Aren't those the Weasleys?"

"And Granger!"

But, for the first time since he was much younger, Harry was unaffected by the attention and scrutiny of the crowded street. He merely beamed and waved, and said "Thank you."

"Yeah," said Ron nonchalantly as they entered Flourish and Blott's. "I'm a bit famous."

After a bit of browsing, the group plopped their books down at the front counter and combined a pile of gold Galleons and silver Sickles to pay. The man behind the enchanted wooden register flicked one Galleon back toward Harry, saying it had been tampered with. Harry inspected it, and discovered that it was his D.A. Galleon, which Hermione had bewitched with a Protean charm.

"Look at this," said Harry, showing it to everyone. "Almost spent it."

Harry slid a real Galleon toward the clerk and stored his books in Hermione's beaded bag.

"Do any of you have any interest in continuing the D.A.?" asked Hermione as they made their way to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "I must admit I got a lot of experience in those lessons, and learned a fair amount of things that were beyond my level."

"Nothing's beyond your level," said Ron. "And yeah, I reckon it was much better than Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"It would be fun to teach again," said Harry. "I'll ask McGonagall. It could be a sort of Defense club."

"We'll all teach, then," said Neville. "We'll get Luna too—we sort of became the leaders after you three left."

"Yeah, well, we've turned up, so we're calling the shots—" began Ron, but he stopped at a glare from Hermione.

"What if a tradition is started?" wondered Ginny. "Hundreds of years from now, people might still be checking their Galleons for their next meeting."

"Wow," breathed Neville.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," said Hermione, laughing lightly, though Ron swore he heard a hint of pride in her tone.

After visiting the necessary shops and collecting their school supplies, the five D.A. leaders walked into the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. Ron sat next to Hermione at a booth, with Harry sitting next to Neville opposite them, while Ginny went to order. Harry, once again, appeared to be scanning the place in awe, as if he'd never seen it before.

"Isn't this great?" he said. "We're off to Hogwarts for another year—a _normal_ year."

"I don't think there is such a thing at Hogwarts," said Neville with a smile. "It'll be eventful, at the very least."

"Yes," said Harry. "First, we should go to Hagrid's—no, hold on, I've been meaning to have a word with Dumbledore's portrait, actually... But wait, attention must be paid to congratulating McGonagall! At some point, I want to fly over the lake again, but on a broom. I've never formally introduced myself to the Giant Squid—oh, stop it, Neville, he's always been a gentle giant."

Harry was looking at his three friends with an incredibly wide smile.

"Harry," began Ron delicately, as if he were talking to a mental patient. "You didn't eat any of the mushrooms in Neville's greenhouse, did you?"

Harry snorted and shook his head. Ron's stomach growled, and the rest of the table agreed, all glancing at Ginny who was ordering food from Tom the toothless barman at the counter. A moment of waiting, whistling, and table-drumming went by, then the four teenagers in the booth were alerted by utterance of one of his least favorite words, coming from the booth behind theirs: "Mudblood."

Harry and Ron stood and walked over to the adjacent booth, and came across two of their least favorite people, Draco Malfoy and Rita Skeeter, sitting across from each other. Rita's obnoxious, acid-green Quick-Quotes Quill was scribbling frantically beside her, logging and romanticizing any words spoken.

"You!" exclaimed Harry.

"What do you want, Potter?" spat Malfoy.

"Malfoy," growled Harry, fixing Malfoy with a glare that threatened to burn a hole through his head. "What are you doing here?"

"Yes, what's a wizard doing at the Leaky Cauldron, how absurd..."

"With Rita Skeeter," added Ron, looking incredulous. Hermione and Neville had come over to investigate the commotion as well. "You two in the same place, at the same booth—trying to see if people can die of disgust, are you?"

"Actually, I'm conducting an interview as part of my new book," said Rita in a poisonously sweet tone. "It will detail the events of Harry Potter's first Hogwarts school year as the first installment of a seven part series. Care to give an interview?"

"So you're going to do him like Dumbledore and try to make it out to be some sort of scandal," said Ron indignantly.

"What ever do you mean?" asked Rita. "Draco here was just telling me of his work as a spy for the—"

"A WHAT!" barked the trio in unison. Several patrons of the pub turned to look at them.

"Spy," said Malfoy. "You saw me in action, of course—"

"I saw you switch sides depending on who had their wand aimed your way," said Harry. "Unlike Dumbledore, Rita, I'm still around to refute your lies, and I will."

"You'll have to get our approval before publishing," said Hermione. "And I'll certainly not approve any of this hogwash about Draco being a spy—or anything but a whimpering coward, for that matter."

Malfoy opened his mouth, poised to respond, but they were joined by Ginny.

"Did I hear the words 'spy' and 'Draco' in the same sentence?" asked Ginny, laughing, before she set her eyes on Rita. "Oh, of course."

"I'm afraid I won't have to get anyone's approval," said Rita. "No, no."

"Oh well, I see it can't be helped," said Hermione, and she received shocked looks from Harry, Neville, Ginny and Ron. "Just be sure not to forget to write about the Beetle of Hogwarts—oops, I meant 'Battle,' silly me."

"Good day," added Ginny, as she and the rest of the Dumbledore's Army leaders turned and headed for a booth on the other end of the pub, well away from Malfoy and Rita.

As they sat there, smirking and shaking their heads in amusement, the food arrived: Bowls of chunky soup and mugs of hot Butterbeer.

"You're scary sometimes, you know that?" said Ron quietly through a mouthful of beef. "Brilliant, but scary."

Hermione's smile faded when they were joined by a cheerful girl of their age with sandy blonde hair and a big white smile who walked up to the side of their table and addressed Ron.

"Ron!" said Lavender brightly. "I never had the chance to thank you—you saved me from that—that _thing._"

"Don't mention it," said Ron casually. "It's Hermione that did the cursing, anyway."

Lavender frowned and turned to Hermione. "Thanks."

"It's nothing," said Hermione with a forced smile. She placed an arm around Ron's shoulder, as if out of instinct. Harry and Ginny struggled to surpress grins.

"Want to join us—" began Neville, but he faltered at the look Hermione gave him. Ron was staring into his soup as if he were so fascinated by it that he couldn't bother with what was going on around him.

"Well, I'll be off, then," said Lavender after an awkward silence. "Thanks again, Ron."

"I think she wanted to thank you a bit more specially than that," said Harry coolly, waggling his eyebrows. Hermione scowled, and Ron looked up from his soup with pink cheeks.

"We should stop by the joke shop," he said. "I want to check on George."

"Maybe we'll glimpse whatever it is he's working on," said Hermione. "I hope it isn't dangerous."

"I'm not sure it is," said Harry. "He said it wasn't related to the shop."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville ambled down the main road of Diagon Alley all the way to the end, and stopped before Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Joke Shop. It was packed with wizards and witches browsing and purchasing various products, all of which were fitted with mysteriously complex enchantments. The five D.A. leaders pushed through the sea of customers towards the registers in search of George, only to find that they had been bewitched to handle the purchases automatically. Every once in a while, Verity, an employee, would stop by the registers to ensure their functionality.

"Hello, Lee," said Harry as they passed a young black man with short dreadlocks who was wearing a magenta uniform with a golden _W_ across its back.

"Harry Potter!" gasped Lee in mock awe. "Merlin's banana raincoat—it's the living legend!"

Harry chuckled lightly. "I see you're working here?"

"George needs all the help he can get around this place, and what could be better than working with my best mates? Besides, there are a few other attractions," said Lee with a nod towards Verity who was restocking shelves across from them.

"Ooh."

"Where is George?" asked Ron.

"Upstairs, in his room—apparently there's some top secret stuff going on in there." Lee leaned in, and whispered. "I told him he'd better not be testing things on that Centaur."

"Is that what he's doing?" asked Hermione, her eyes wide. "That's horrible!"

"I know," said Lee. "There's just no chance of a Centaur market for the shop. They live in the forest, and I don't think they like to have fun."

"There's no way he's testing things on her," mumbled Ron as they bade Lee goodbye and continued through the crowded aisles of the shop towards the stairway to George's flat.

Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-bangs sparked overhead in a dazzling display, pink heart-shaped bubbles floated to the ceiling from the Love Potions stand, and an illusory cloud of white smoke that resembled Peeves was hopping from shelf to shelf, chanting vulgar limericks. They climbed the stairs, and Ron reached the door first, rapping his knuckles against it none too lightly.

"Lee?" said George's voice from inside. "I'm busy with the project."

"It's Ron." Ron turned and gave his friends a questioning look; they shook their heads, equally confused, and Ron turned back to the door. "What project?"

"I cannot divulge that information, Ronnie. Wait a second, won't you?"

After a moment, the door swung open, and there stood George Weasley in his magenta robes, wearing an eyepatch that covered the hole in his head where his ear used to be, presumably so as not to bother the customers. The room was cluttered with broken quills, stray cogs and gears, burn marks and potions of various colors in a rack of phials above George's dresser. There was also an area of the room where grass inexplicably grew out of the floorboards, and a small tree was planted in the corner.

"Buying your books, kiddies?" he asked with a grin. Helinora the Centaur waved to them from behind him.

"What were you doing in here?" asked Ron.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" replied George as he stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him, motioning for them to follow him back into the shop.

"How are you?" asked Hermione.

"Jolly," replied George. "Oh, they must be buying their books as well."

George pointed to four children who were carrying school supplies similar to those stored in Hermione's beaded bag.

"Roque, don't set that off!" exclaimed George.

Roque, a blonde boy with a formidable jaw who was one of the four, immediately set the Portable Swamp he was threatening to activate back on its shelf. Neville walked over to it and picked it up.

"For Herbology," he said, before making his way to the register.

"George, what is this thing you're working on?" demanded Ron.

"Look, a distraction!" urged George, pointing behind Ron. Ron quickly turned around and squinted.

"A distraction—wait... OI!" Ron called after George who was already halfway back up the stairs to his flat.

"I'll find out what he's up to," said Ron. "Maybe use an Extendable Ear."

"That'd be humorous," said Hermione. "Hoisted by his own petard."

"Hey, I know he only got 3 O.W.L.s, but that's no reason to call him names," said Ron sincerely. Harry and Hermione shared an amused look, then burst into laughter.


	4. Another Journey from Platform 9 34ths

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any relation to its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction. I do, however, make millions of dollars writing disclaimers.

* * *

The white tiled floor of King's Cross station shone brightly with sun rays that slanted down from the high windows. On it, a party consisting of three wizards and three witches walked briskly towards a pillar between Platforms 9 and 10. The four youngest of the group were pushing large trunks along in carts, the wheels of which were squealing like mice as they walked. One by one, with the rest keeping lookout, the wizards and witches walked through the pillar as if it weren't corporally tangible, moving straight through the seemingly solid wall.

First to rush through the portal to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was a bespectacled young man with hair as black as ink. He turned and brought his cart to the end of the platform, where a vibrant scarlet steam engine was waiting. Wizards and witches crowded the busy platform, loading luggage onto the train and saying goodbyes. Harry glanced back whence he came and witnessed Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Molly and Arthur striding through the wrought-iron archway.

"Come, now," said Molly while guiding the teenagers towards the train. "No time to dally!"

"We were nearly late," breathed Hermione as Ron and Harry helped her hoist her trunk onto the train.

"We could always fly," said Ron with a grin that exposed yellow teeth, as no more than 48 hours ago he had been a lot taller and fuzzier. "Reckon I might manage a better landing the second time around."

"The car's gone, though," said Harry, dragging his own heavy trunk onto the train. "It's still wandering around the forest, I think."

"That, and you'd be expelled before you even walked through the gate," said Hermione reproachfully. "Funny, isn't it, that you only remember the glamor of being the boy who flew to school, and not the boy whimpering in front of a screaming Howler in the Great Hall."

"Hagrid said Fluffy was still wandering round the forest too," said Ron as the four of them carried Ginny's trunk through to the luggage racks. "Hope he and the Anglia are giving the centaurs a right bruising."

"Ron, don't you think that's a bit judgmental?" began Hermione, but Harry shot her an incredulous look.

"I don't recall any of them standing up when you were begging them not to hurt you." Harry looked slightly indignant.

"Right, well, I don't know... they've got their own... it's different..." Hermione's sentence was reduced to mumbling while the last of their trunks was deposited on the rack.

The group set off to find a place to sit, with Ginny carrying a cage with an erratically hooting tiny grey owl inside, Hermione carrying her massive ginger cat, and Ron carrying his glowing Mermish Starflower. During their search for a free section, they came across a pair of protuberant eyes staring out at them from within a compartment. They belonged to a girl with a sweet smile and long, dirty-blond hair under what appeared to be a crown made of stickerbrush. Understandably, the students on their way to Hogwarts had opted to overlook Luna Lovegood's compartment, except for one. Neville Longbottom was sitting in the corner, looking bemused.

The four entered and greeted Luna and Neville warmly. After several hugs were exchanged, Luna sat down across from Neville, and Hermione sat next to him, with Harry and Ginny sitting beside Luna. Ron was looking for a place to stow his flower when Neville stood and took it off his hands, then slipped in between Harry and Luna in a movement he had clearly thought to be stealthy. Ron shot Harry a furtive look and received a grin, before taking his seat beside Hermione.

"How's Xeno?" asked Ron, looking at Luna. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs subtly.

"He's ashamed," said Luna lightly, though there was a hint of shame in her voice as well. "And quite upset about the Snorkack horn. He wasn't aware they explode."

Hermione seemed to be waging an internal war, but her wish to be polite won and she did not argue.

"Yeah..." Ron looked a bit confused. "Understandable, though, what he did, don't give him too much hell over it."

"You're looking quite peaky, Ron. Are you experiencing an infestation of Wrackspurts?"

"Oh, that," said Ron. "Er—Spattergroit. After-effects."

"Oh no, I don't think so."

Luna did not elaborate, and began perusing a copy of The Quibbler, upside down of course.

"Ron, we've got to go to the prefects' car to brief them on their duties," said Hermione, sounding absolutely excited about it. "We mustn't be late."

She practically had to drag him out of the compartment and through the aisle towards the front of the train where the prefects and teachers sat.

"There's an empty compartment, maybe we could, y'know, _get lost on the way there_." Ron grinned to her, but soon closed his mouth, as his slimy teeth wouldn't help tempt her.

"We're on a train, Ron," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "It's a straight path. Besides, you've got puppy breath."

Ron groaned, subconsciously running his hand through his hair, which was a much duller shade of bloodred around the time of his transformations.

"Why can't we call it something nicer?"

"That _was_ the nicer name for it, and don't you growl at me."

The two were so concentrated on each other that they didn't notice the familiar passerby on their way to the prefects' car.

Back at the compartment populated by Dumbledore's Army leaders, Harry yawned lightly, adjusted his glasses, and glanced towards the window. They were exiting London, and now speeding past fields full of cows and sheep, and grassy hills that glared lime green in the sunlight. Harry flattened himself sideways along the bench in a relaxed position and hoisted his feet up onto Ginny's lap. She looked at him with one brow raised.

"Just who gave you permission to use me as a footstool?"

"Those are the feet that lived." Harry grinned and Ginny rolled her eyes. "Attention must be paid."

"My feet may not be the chosen feet, but they're still more than capable of giving you a kick in the arse."

"Best leave my arse alone," said Harry slyly. "It's the cho... cho... Cho!"

Harry sat up, staring at the compartment door as it slid open. An Asian woman walked through the door, her long jet-black hair fluttering behind her with each step, and her rust-colored plaid kilt flowing in her stride. She greeted everyone kindly, and fixed her sights on Harry. Ginny's eyes were shifting from Cho's nervous smile to Harry's goofy grin, gradually narrowing.

"Hello, Harry," said Cho. "Haven't seen you since the... Event."

"The funeral, you mean," said Ginny.

"Yeah, you surprised me a bit," said Harry. "Didn't think you'd come."

"Fred helped me against Umbridge." Cho smiled sadly. "Though, we sort of had a falling out after what Marietta did..."

Ginny made a small cough that sounded a lot like '_sneak_.'

"Is Marietta with you?" asked Harry.

"No, her family moved to the west after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named took over."

Luna's noisy cackle sounded through the train; Neville had just whispered something to her, and he was now sniggering to himself quietly. Nonplussed, Cho perched herself next to Neville, across from Harry.

"What are you doing here?" asked Harry. "Not to sound rude or anything, of course."

"I'm studying under the new Transfiguration teacher."

"Who is it?"

"Can't tell you." Cho gave Harry a playful smile.

Neville groaned. Cho looked at him quickly, causing her long black hair to flow behind her; Ginny's scowl grew more pronounced.

"That's a beautiful flower," remarked Cho, her eyes lighting up at the translucent starflower, the leaves of which were slowly uncurling. "It moves?"

"It curls—er—for no reason at all," said Neville obtusely. "I like Herbology."

The door slid open once again, and the Head Boy and Head Girl stepped into the compartment, without noticing the new member of the group.

"Neville Longbottom likes Herbology? No!" gasped Ron.

Cho rose to her feet and made eye contact with Ron; his eyes widened for a moment, but then his grin widened as well. They stared at each other for a while, with Ron beaming smugly, but remained silent. Hermione sat next to Ginny and whispered something to her, to which she nodded, with a brief glance towards Harry. Finally, Cho shrugged, beginning to look flustered under Ron's gaze.

"They were lucky," said Cho dismissively. "That's all."

"Lucky they were facing an inferior team, perhaps."

Ron crossed his arms at Cho's scowl, and she made to leave, but peeked back into the compartment to address Harry one last time.

"I've got a job at the Three Broomsticks, part-time, you should all come by."

"We would have anyway," Ron called to her as she left. He went to slide the compartment door shut and turned back to the group, his proud grin still active. "The Tornadoes suck."

"They did get routed, didn't they?" said Hermione, recalling Ron's ecstatic reaction to a rare Chudley Cannons victory. "Though it's no surprise, they're no match for the Cannons."

Ron gave Hermione a grateful look. "Keep that up and you'll just have to deal with my breath."

"For the love of Odo's broken wand," said Neville in disgust. "Find an empty room."

Ron narrowed his eyes and began to respond, but was interrupted by a smiling, dimpled woman opening their compartment door.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?"

"Trolley lady!" said Harry. "Oh—er, sorry, never got your name—but, anyway, it's great to see you again, and we'll take the lot!" Harry thrust a handful of gold Galleons in front of the trolley lady.

"Last year is it?" she remarked, looking between Harry and Ron. They nodded. "Terrible shame. You two have given me more business these past school years than any group of students the school has ever seen. Oh well, enjoy your last year."

The students stocked up on sweets. Harry was feeling particularly adventurous with a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, popping beans into his mouth without even glancing at their color. His reactions were generally mild, though he lost interest after tasting an odd indigo bean.

"Hermione!" shouted Neville, one of his cheeks bulging as he chomped on a Chocolate Frog. "Look!"

Neville handed her the Chocolate Frog card, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny glanced over her shoulder to inspect it. Instead of one witch or wizard in the small portrait on the card, there were three, though two of them were lurking in the background behind the prominent bushy haired witch.

_Hermione Jean Granger_

_Currently a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_One third of the famous Golden Trio that defeated the Dark Lord, this studious Muggleborn is known for her academic achievement, brilliant magical skill, activism, and founding of Dumbledore's Army. Miss Granger can read Ancient Runes, is proficient in Arithmancy, and enjoys literature and gingers._

"Gingers?" squeaked Hermione, breathless.

"Well, yeah," said Ron. "Old Bertie's got a point: between me and Crookshanks, you've got a fetish going on."

Hermione slugged him on the shoulder feebly, still staring at her card. Tears were threatening to streak down her cheeks, though she was smiling from ear to ear.

"We're in the background," said Harry. "That means we must have cards too."

"Wicked!" said Ron, taking the card and examining it. "Though, sadly, that's three more I'll have to collect before I have a full set."

"Boo-hoo," teased Ginny, taking the card in her hand. "Oh, bugger, she's gone."

"Well you can't expect me to hang around all day!" Hermione smiled and placed the card in her pocket.

A knock came at the door of the compartment. Neville, closest to the door, stood up and saw four first-years he recognized from Fred's funeral outside, though only one of them was tall enough to look through the window. Neville opened the door to admit them.

"Bandits!" said Harry. "This your first year?"

"Yes," said the only female of the quartet, who was eyeing Ron uncomfortably, uneased by his grizzled state. Ron offered her a warm smile, but his teeth, darkened and slick with saliva, only served to further spook her.

A proud-looking boy with a blonde buzz cut and formidable jaw placed his hands on his hips and gave Ron's Head Boy badge a skeptical look.

"You're Head Boy?"

"Who else?"

"But George says you wouldn't know a Patronus from a platypus."

"Oi," growled Ron. "I could do a Patronus Charm before he could!"

"It remains to be proven," said a boy with wavy, shoulder-length black hair and black boots. "Whether or not you were aware it wasn't a Platypus Charm."

Ron narrowed his eyes and mumbled, surprised that a group of first-years could be so brazen.

"Which House d'you reckon you'll be Sorted in?" asked Harry diplomatically.

"We'll probably be separated," said Roque, the blonde boy. "We figured Gryffindor, but Ellie's too cowardly. Then we considered Ravenclaw, but Munky's too dimwitted. As for Hufflepuff, well, Blackboot's much too lazy."

Roque's three companions scowled behind his back as he smirked.

"Slytherin, then," mumbled Ron under his breath. "The lot of you."

"Well, if you're feeling nervous," said Hermione, nudging Ron warningly. "Stop by Hagrid's hut for tea."

"He's a great friend," said Harry wistfully. "Helped me through first year."

"What if he, er, steps on one of us?"

"Then make friends with Pomfrey too," suggested Neville.

"Who?"

"The Healer."

"I think you should take that advice," said Blackboot, the black-haired boy, to Ron.

"ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT!" roared Ron, standing. "Go on, back to your compartments, before I dock points from whatever House is unfortunate enough to have you!"

"But—but—even the Head Boy can't dock—"

"Of course I can! I also have access to Filch's thumbscrews!"

Ron made a quick movement towards the first years, and they dashed out of the door with Ron bounding after them and growling menacingly. Shortly after Ron left the compartment, a crash echoed through the train, followed by a sneering voice that, unfortunately for the occupants of the compartment, sounded familiar.

"Watch where you're going, weasel! Ugh, you're disgusting!"

"Shove off, Malfoy!"

Harry glanced around the compartment in shock, before hastily stepping out to the aisle to investigate. A pale, blonde boy with a pointed face was wiping his robes dramatically, as if he'd been contaminated by his collision with Ron.

"Malfoy?" asked Harry dully. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on the Hogwarts Express on September the first, you dolt, what do you think?"

"I'll tell you what I think!"

Harry was now joined by his fellow D.A. leaders; Luna wielded her wand, mobilized for a fight. Hermione cut across Harry as he began to voice his opinion of Malfoy.

"Don't bother, Harry," said Hermione, before glancing at Malfoy with a boastful smirk. "Is it detention you're after, Draco?"

"Yeah," added Ron, puffing out his chest to display his Head Boy badge. "I think, perhaps, sixty detentions ought to straighten you out."

Malfoy was poised to spit a response back at Ron, but Harry spoke again, still looking incredulous.

"Who let you back? You're a Death Eater."

"The Death Eaters are dead," said Malfoy, and he tensed his eyebrows a bit, contemplating the irony. "Nobody's a Death Eater anymore, and I'll have you know, I defected during the Battle, even while the Dark Lord was still alive."

"Yeah, about three times," quipped Neville.

"Dumbledore's portrait vouched for me," said Malfoy with an air of self-satisfaction.

"Out of pity, no doubt," said Hermione before ushering her friends back into the compartment; many of them had drawn their wands as well.

Atop a vast mountain, an enormous castle's shape was visible as it blotted out stars in the night sky, and by the golden blips of light shining from its many windows. The group traveled on a coach pulled by a Thestral, which was now quite apparent to all of them. Ron was mumbling something about the Giant Squid upending the Battle-Axe Bandits' boats while they stared at Hogwarts castle, which, with their help, had been repaired to its former glory.


	5. Oh No! It's THE GRAN!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any relation to its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

Harry Potter had a permanent grin plastered on his face as he made his way into the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts Castle. During his first year at Hogwarts, the castle seemed incredibly lively, and as the years progressed, it became more gray and gloomy with the weight of the impending war and the grief over its casualties. Now, in Harry's eyes, it had never been more spirited; its walls were golden with torchlight, shining ghosts flew through the doors, and owls of plumage ranging from beige-and-brown to snow white fluttered past the windows on occasion.

"I'm back!" Harry announced to a passing ghost of a man with long, curly hair and an armored tunic. The ghost offered Harry a quizzical glance before disappearing through a solid wall.

Harry called for Ron and Hermione to stay behind as the sea of black-robed students flooded into the Great Hall. Once everyone had left, and the stragglers that had stayed behind to ogle the famous Harry Potter were scared off by a certain Head Boy, Harry pointed at a statue of a chubby warlock that was tucked in a nook next to the entrance to the Great Hall.

There was a new addition to the life-size statue: A pedestal at the stone warlock's feet held three small figurines. Upon closer inspection, the trio recognized the little statues as themselves. Ron pouted as he understood that this was the recognition they would get for saving the school and the Wizarding world. Over the summer, Ron had been speculating as to what sort of tribute the Hogwarts staff would make for them in honor of their success, and, at one point, voiced the idea of renaming the school Houses Weasley, Potter, and Granger, and dropping Slytherin completely.

A stone likeness of Harry Potter stood in the middle, gripping a Firebolt in one hand and a long sheet of cloth in the other, which they supposed was Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

"Sort of wanted to keep that a secret," sighed Harry.

Flanking him were the stone representations of his best friends; to his right, Ron Weasley's statue stood a bit taller, brandishing the Sword of Gryffindor and a small rectangular device.

"The Deluminator." Ron sighed as well. "Wish I still had it."

To the left of the statues of Harry and Ron stood a statue with an unmistakable head of bushy hair, standing with good posture and hugging a large book to her chest.

"Shame," said Ron after Hermione seemed too moved to speak. "They covered all the best parts."

"You might have seen the real thing one day had you not made that comment," replied Hermione in a dignified tone.

"Oh, I've seen plenty."

"ENOUGH!" exclaimed Harry, covering his ears dramatically. The only thing less bearable to Harry than their fighting was their flirting. "We'll miss the Sorting if you go down this route."

"Hey, you're always blocking that route." Ron grinned, remembering a certain incident in the Room of Requirement moments prior to the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione still seemed a bit touched by the Professor McGonagall's tribute to them, and remained silent, with pink cheeks.

"I suppose you'd just keep quiet if I took Ginny on a tour of that route," remarked Harry, and Ron decided it was time to proceed to the Great Hall and end the conversation.

Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall and were immediately the target of a thousand staring eyes. Harry began to regret stopping to look at the figurines; they could have blended with the crowd much more successfully had they not arrived late. Through a soundscape of whispers, they made their way to the Gryffindor table, which could be identified by its large scarlet banner overhead. Candles floated weightlessly above the banners, illuminating the room, and the ceiling beyond had vanished into an illusion of the starry night sky.

"Fame is a fickle friend, Harry," simpered Ron in his best impression of Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry snorted. "Celebrity is as celebrity does, always remember that, even though I'm going to erase your memory at the end of the year—"

"That isn't funny!" said Hermione, her eyes wide. "That isn't funny at all, Ron—if he didn't try to use your broken wand—I mean, think of what could have happened—"

"I'm only joking, don't get your wand in a knot—or do, who knows what someone might try to do with it later—"

"Ron, your sister could have been killed—and Harry, stop laughing!"

"Sorry," said Harry, forcing his smile flat.

"I try not to think about that, anyway," said Ron.

"Oh, I'd almost forgot, you never think about what _might_ happen, do you, you just... _meander_ around, _la la la_..." Ron was laughing too now; Hermione looked rather ridiculous, flailing her arms around daintily in a manner that reminded Harry and Ron of Luna Lovegood.

"I think you're just touchy on the subject because you wanted to marry the dunderhead," said Ron.

"I did not."

"Harry!" said an approaching Nearly Headless Nick. He was waving a silvery hand jovially. "A pleasure it is to see you again!"

"Hello, Sir Nicholas, how do you do?"

"Anxious." replied Nick. "I'm still awaiting the verdict regarding my most recent application to the Headless Hunt. They're desperate for new members, and I might have a shot... Oh, the suspense, it's killing me."

"But," began Ron, but he faltered at Hermione's look of warning.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, I'm still very aware that I'm already dead. Do remind me in a few minutes, won't you—in case I start attempting to breathe—oh that would just be silly, wouldn't it?" Nick huffed and drifted off to converse with the Fat Friar.

"Harry, over here!" shouted a voice with a familiar Irish accent.

Huddled at the Gryffindor table were Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, Dennis Creevey, and Ginny Weasley, all scooting over to make three spaces available for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The trio sat down, exchanging welcoming greetings with their fellow Gryffindors. Further along the table, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were whispering quietly to each other, giggling and pointing at various people.

"So me mam's said to congratulate you on a job well done," said Seamus conversationally. "Didn't say much about the job I did, either—reckon now she thinks _I'm_ the one who's a bad influence on _you__!_"

"Didn't you tell her you saved me from the Dementors?"

"Ah, she didn't buy it," said Seamus, though he didn't sound bitter. "She's also told me to give you her apologies for fifth year, if you remember that."

"Vaguely." Harry grinned. "It seems so long ago now."

"I know what you mean," said Ron. Beside him, Neville gave a feeble nod of agreement.

Hermione was shifting left and right, excited to get a view of the staff table through the crowd, and Harry stood to look as well. Professor Flitwick was chatting animatedly with Professor McGonagall. Next to them, it was impossible to overlook the massive form of Rubeus Hagrid, who offered Harry and the Gryffindors a wave and a wink, which they all returned; Harry was delighted to see that even Lavender and Parvati were greeting Hagrid warmly.

Professor Slughorn had a proud smile on his face and was talking to an unfamiliar dark-skinned man, undoubtedly reciting his long list of high-profile connections. Professor Sprout was laughing buoyantly beside a vaguely familiar old witch who was wearing a tall hat with a stuffed vulture on top of it, and a fox fur scarf. Harry had seen these clothes before, but they were on his old Potions teacher, Professor Snape, when a Boggart had taken Snape's form to scare Neville.

At that point, Ron noticed that Neville wasn't looking towards the staff table, but staring down at the Gryffindor table with his face in his hands. Ron's eyes widened a bit as he made the connection, and he leaned over the Gryffindor table to prod Neville's elbow until Neville was attentive.

"Neville," he said with an amused smile. "That your Gran, up there talking to Sprout?"

Neville nodded mutely.

"Defense?"

"No."

"Transfiguration?" asked Hermione. Neville nodded again.

"Is she good?" asked Dean. Finally, Neville smiled.

"Yeah."

"That big bloke must be the Defense teacher then," said Harry.

"Attention, students!" called Professor McGonagall, raising her hand to hush the babble. "The Sorting Ceremony shall now commence."

Filch shuffled forth and placed a four-legged stool in front of the line of red-faced first years. They were sweating and looking as if they were on the verge of fainting. The grizzled caretaker then placed upon the footstool a pointed witch hat, which was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. The Sorting Hat's face appeared in the form of wrinkles and rips, and it began to speak in a gruff voice.

_Your eyes might not thank you _

_If you take a look at me,_

_But when you sit and put me on,_

_I'll choose your destiny._

_Yes, I'm called the Sorting Hat,_

_If you were wondering what I do._

_If you can find a smarter garment,_

_A tip of the cap to you._

_If you've a bowler or top hat,_

_It's all right, you may keep it._

_Not even the thickest of your skulls,_

_Shall keep me from your secrets._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where only the bravest dwell._

_Daring, nerve and chivalry, _

_Is where Gryffindors excel._

_You might be made a Hufflepuff,_

_If you are loyal, just and true._

_If staunchly sticking by your friends,_

_Is what you always do._

_It could be wise old Ravenclaw,_

_Where you may find your place._

_If knowledge and information,_

_Is all you tend to chase._

_Or perhaps in Slytherin,_

_With the clever and the vicious._

_Greatness awaits these cunning souls,_

_For they are most ambitious._

_So put me on! Have a try!_

_Don't be a slack!_

_You're in safe hands, though I have none,_

_And you might look good in black!_

The whole hall erupted in raucous applause, and the Sorting Hat bowed politely to each of the four House tables, before returning to an inanimate state. One by one, Professor McGonagall called the students from the line to the stool, and the Sorting Hat announced which House was ideal for them.

"Albright, Sean!"

A tiny boy eagerly shuffled to the stool and had to jump to plant himself atop it.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherins offered a lackluster applause for the minuscule boy. Professor McGonagall gestured towards the Slytherin table, and he hurried there, where he found more success standing on the bench rather than sitting on it.

"Beech, Simon!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched intently. This was the first Bandit to be summoned to the chair. The sight of his tall, bony figure was such a change from that of little Sean Albright that it was hard to imagine they were the same age. Simon strode over to the stool and sat casually.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"HA!" Ron punched the air triumphantly. "That's one!"

Harry grinned at the perplexed stares supplied by Seamus and Dean as Hermione shushed Ron's celebrations.

"Castle, Con" was the first student to be sorted into Gryffindor. He froze with wide eyes when Harry shook his hand and offered him a seat.

"Roque, Sherman!"

The Sorting Hat hadn't even touched his head before it shouted its decision.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hufflepuffs applauded kindly, but Ron clapped the loudest.

"Starr, Adrian!"

Unlike Roque, the Sorting Hat needed a bit more time judging Blackboot, but eventually came to the same result.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry and his fellow Gryffindors were no longer paying much attention to the actual Sorting and were staring at Ron in amusement. Ron had shut his eyes tightly and crossed his fingers on both hands and was chanting "_please, please, please,_" under his breath.

"Summers, Elena!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Bandits united at the Hufflepuff table, and Ron was on the verge of hopping onto the Gryffindor table and doing a victory dance.

"What do you have against those kids?" asked Seamus, bewildered.

"Just that they're little blighters," said Ron, still grinning. "Reckon Fred and George told them to give me hell."

Ginny's eyes shot to Ron, and, for a second, he didn't seem to notice his mistake. His eyes soon widened with comprehension, and he stared down at the table, picking at a nook in the heavy wood.

"I mean George," he said. Hermione rubbed his forearm soothingly.

"Your attention, please!" said Professor McGonagall after "Yolk, Timmy," was made a Ravenclaw.

"Before you all set your eyes on our excellent feast and lose all desire to listen—or think—I have a few things to say. We have a few changes in staffing this year. Taking the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is Professor Astadourian. I hope you'll join me in wishing that he at least manages to return next year!"

The muscular tan-skinned man next to Professor Slughorn offered a small smile and a modest nod.

"And, replacing me as teacher of Transfiguration and Head of Gryffindor House, Professor Longbottom."

The applause was much more enthusiastic for Professor Longbottom, and most of it came from the Gryffindor table. Neville drooped his head miserably when someone in the crowd offered his Gran a wolf-whistle.

"Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you for the first in what I predict shall be a long line of reminders that all Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products are strictly prohibited on Hogwarts grounds," continued Professor McGonagall. "You may view a list of banned materials, spells, and people in Mr. Filch's office."

Professor McGonagall sat down, and on each House table, platters of food materialized. Many of the first years sat in awe of the spread before them, but the more experienced students dug in with no hesitation. Harry was on the lookout for any sign of treacle tart; next to him, Hermione was scolding Ron, who had attempted to scoop all nearby trays towards him in one motion.

* * *

"Bowtruckle."

"Why yes," replied the Fat Lady before opening to admit the gathering of Gryffindors outside the portrait hole.

They got a brief glimpse of the familiar common room with its scarlet tapestries, crackling fireplace and soft armchairs before a blinding flash of light swept over their eyes. Rubbing their groggy eyes with their knuckles, the Gryffindors entered the room and searched for the source of the light. Above the fireplace was a square portrait of a small teenager with mousy hair; he had a clunky camera strapped around his neck, which was smoking from overuse.

"Hiya, Harry!" said the portrait of Colin Creevey.

"Colin!" exclaimed Harry. "They made a portrait of you!"

The group of Gryffindors surrounded the portrait, with Dennis Creevey hurrying to inspect the plaque at the bottom of its frame.

"_Colin the Courageous,_" breathed Dennis. "_Wow!_"

"They give you a snappy nickname like that if you die to defend Hogwarts, I guess," said Ron.

"Fancy a bit of Torvald the Terrible's rum?" asked a different voice from Colin's portrait. Colin looked to his left and shook his head.

"Take it," insisted the voice. A hand popped into the portrait from out of sight and thrust a big brown bottle into Colin's hands.

"Who's that?" asked Hermione. "That sounds like..."

"Oh, have we got company?" asked the voice.

Colin pointed to the crowd of Gryffindors standing outside the portrait, and a redheaded boy within the portrait stepped into view to survey the group, while Colin took a swig of the rum and grimaced in disgust.

"Fred!" shouted Ron.

"Speak up, Ron, I'm sure there are people down in the dungeons who might not have heard you," said Fred, rubbing his ears.

"Fred, it's you!"

"_I know._"

"Where's your portrait?" asked Harry. Fred pointed behind them, to a long portrait the size of a small door, and the plaque above it read '_Fred the Dead_'

"I'm guessing you chose the name," said Hermione with a very faint smile. Fred grinned and nodded.

"We've got to tell George about this," said Ron.

"No, I don't want him to know."

"_What?_" Ron gaped. "You're mad!"

"He needs to move on," said Fred softly. "No, listen, he does, and he can't hang on to this—this drawing of me, meant to mimic my personality, beautiful though it may be."

"No, Fred, you haven't seen him lately." Ron shook his head, looking grave. "He needs you—I mean, he needs _something_ to get by, doesn't he?"

"I know him better than you do, Ron," said Fred firmly. "This paint is only paint, Ron."

Ron merely stared.

"So, then... How's life as a portrait?" asked Seamus awkwardly.

"Not too bad, actually! Just the other day, Colin and I went and were invited by Dumbledore and Sir Cadogan to a game of cards."

"Aha!" exclaimed Harry from behind them. He had apparently been fiddling with Fred's portrait, and it opened to reveal a secret passage. "Where does this go?"

"That's a secret," said Fred.

"The kitchens?"

"Son of a Bludger." Fred walked back to his portrait, looking defeated. "You still have to know the password when I'm guarding it."

"This is pretty heavy, guys, but I'm tired," said Dean after a long yawn. "Bed time, I think."

"I'll stay down here a bit," said Ron to Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. They shared a look.

"Ron, I don't think you should get too attached," said Hermione in a delicate tone.

"I know, I know, but for one night, all right?"

"We've got lessons in the morning, Ron, and this is dangerously similar to the Mirror of Erised, isn't it?" Hermione grabbed Ron's wrist and tugged him towards the stairs.

"One night," repeated Ron.

"No, Ron."

"One—_gerroff_—one night! It's not asking too much, and I'm not going to spend all my time larking away in front of him, he wouldn't let me—"

"But it isn't him!"

"Hermione..." Ron stared at Hermione pleadingly.

"All right," said Hermione, her eyes sparkling wet. "All right... I've got to work on the Protean charm for the D.A. Galleons... When I'm finished, I'll come down and get you, but after that you have to _promise_ me you won't sneak back down here."

"Agreed," said Ron, smiling. He looked around and noticed that everyone but Harry and Ginny had gone up to bed during his conversation with Hermione.

"I'll be upstairs, mate," said Harry, patting Ron on the shoulder before heading off to bed.

Harry smiled when he vaguely heard a smooching noise in the common room behind him as he reached the top of the stairs and opened the door to his old dormitory, which was now marked **Eighth Year Dormitory**. Harry entered the circular room and found his old four-poster bed, set his glasses down on his bedside table, and slipped under the covers.

"Neville?" said Seamus from behind the curtain of his bed.

"What?"

"You never told me your gran was such a fox."

"_What?_"

"Night, lad." Dean and Harry sniggered quietly.

Harry fell asleep grinning. He was back home.


	6. Red Swarm

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any relation to its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

Harry and Ron sat at the long Gryffindor House table in the Great Hall for breakfast the next day. Harry was staring around the hall, admiring it in all its splendor, his plate of eggs and toast untouched. Beside him, Ginny was eyeing Ron with concern as he scooped spoonfuls of porridge into his mouth, oblivious to Ginny's gaze.

Ron only looked up from his food when Hermione came up behind him and asked him to scoot over and make room for her. He budged aside and she sat down next to him, placing a small beige sack on the table in front of her, which rattled with a metallic jingle.

"Oh, good morning, Hermione," said Harry once he had noticed her.

"Morning," Hermione replied, covering her mouth as she yawned.

"_Wheryubin__?_" asked Ron, his cheeks bulging with food. He gulped, and added, "Working on the Galleons?"

"Yes." Hermione pulled the string on the sack of D.A. Galleons, opening the bag partially; inside, many shimmering gold coins were revealed.

"Porridge?" Ron offered Hermione the remainder of his breakfast.

"No thank you, I ate in the dormitory."

"Harry?" Ron pushed the bowl over to Harry, but then noticed Harry's plate was still full. "Hey, why haven't you touched your food?"

"What?" said Harry distractedly; he had been staring up at the enchanted ceiling, which displayed the sky above. "Oh, I'd forgotten."

"Well look sharp, Harry, we've got lessons soon," said Ron. Harry began eating at double speed, and Hermione looked delighted at the prospect of classes, and her grin grew wider when Ron examined his schedule and read, "Potions."

Potions with the Slytherins, once Harry's most dreaded class, was now only slightly irksome under Professor Slughorn. The same cheek that had cost Harry perhaps hundreds of points from Gryffindor at the hands of Severus Snape only seemed to earn House points from Slughorn, who would make comparisons between Harry and his mother whenever he told somebody off or made a sarcastic quip.

As per their unique schedule, the eighth-year students had many of their classes together, regardless of their Houses. As such, Harry was standing at a table with Ron, Hermione, and Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, listening to Professor Slughorn discuss the subtle differences between Scintillating Solutions and Shining Draughts.

A sense of unease was bubbling in Harry's stomach at the prospect of undergoing Professor Slughorn's class without the aid of the Half-Blood Prince's potions book, and it didn't help that Hermione was repeatedly shooting him furtive looks with a proud smirk after answering every one of Slughorn's questions with accuracy.

"Did you 'ear?" said a voice from a nearby table. Harry looked over and saw Draco Malfoy huddled together with his crony, Goyle, whose English had not improved since Harry had last heard him speak. "That Albright is a mudblood—'ow'd 'e get in Sliv'rin, anyways?"

"Don't use that word," said Malfoy. Harry's jaw dropped. _Could Malfoy have turned over a new leaf?_ "It's 'anyway,' you idiot, there's no 'S.'"

Harry snorted, causing both Malfoy and Goyle to glance over at him.

"Piss off, Potter," snapped Malfoy, making a rude hand gesture while glancing over to the front of the classroom to make sure Slughorn's back was turned. Ron, Hermione, and Ernie were now looking in Malfoy's direction as well.

"You'd best watch the vulgarities, Malfoy, or it'll be detention," said Ron. "I'm Head Boy."

"A Head Boy who can't even Apparate," shot Malfoy.

"You know what, Malfoy, I'm going to take this cauldron," said Harry, lifting up his cauldron. "And I'll shove it—"

"Today," said Professor Slughorn loudly over the chatter. "We're going to be using our Scintillating Solutions as ingredients! Most helpful in brewing Sensory Elixirs, an old Auror favorite. You might have heard of Kingsley Shacklebolt, of course, the famous Auror—and now, Minister—well, I'm quite proud to say I taught him a few things about potionmaking—but I digress, of course, now where was I?"

Professor Slughorn glanced back at the chalkboard. "Oh, right, Sensory Elixirs. Well, these will heighten all the senses, granting you superb awareness of your environment. Instructions are —" he waved his wand — instructions appeared on the chalkboard — "on the board."

"Why must every Potions teachers do that?" wondered Harry aloud over the clicking of glass and clanging of metal as everyone readied their ingredients.

"I'm not sure, but did you hear, a Muggleborn got into Slytherin," said Hermione, glancing over at Malfoy's table. "That's got to be a first."

"Doubt it," said Harry. "There must have been a few over the years."

"I feel sorry for the little monkey," said Ron, waving his hand rapidly to fan the fumes of a rotten egg-like stench away from his cauldron. "Blimey, where'd I go wrong?"

"Looks like you've forgotten the peppermint, Warburton," said Professor Slughorn casually as he passed by, examining the students' progress. "Excellent color, Miss Granger."

"His name is Weasley," said Ernie, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh? Sorry, Weasley, my dear boy—Ron, isn't it?—Honest mistake!" Professor Slughorn nodded at Harry's potion, then continued on to the next table.

"Thanks, mate," said Ron with a grin. Ernie nodded proudly.

As the rest of the day passed by, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were beginning to dislike their new inter-House schedule, as it meant they shared nearly every class with the Slytherins. By the end of Charms class, in which they practiced the Confundus charm, (Hermione's expertise earned Gryffindor a sum of thirty House points) Harry longed for their old schedule.

After Charms, they headed out to the greenhouses for what used to be Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and only the Hufflepuffs, but now there were Ravenclaws and Slytherins present. However, the trio soon learned that Professor Sprout, for all her warmth, was much less passive than little Professor Flitwick with regards to the Slytherins' rudeness.

In Transfiguration, much to Hermione's dismay, Professor Longbottom had made it plain before the first lesson that she believed homework to be pointless. The lesson itself, however, was incredibly grueling. Predictably, it was only Hermione who managed to transfigure a fellow student into a muskrat. Ron had only accomplished a sort of half-gopher and Harry had accidentally conjured a candle with no clue as to where he had gone wrong.

Harry and Ron shared a horrified expression as they wandered through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room at the end of lessons. Even Hermione appeared flustered as she crawled in behind them. The trio hobbled woefully to a set of soft armchairs and plopped down on them, looking as if they had just seen a unicorn die.

"It just kept on," said Ron, as if describing the St. Mognuk's Day Massacre they had just learned about in History of Magic. "It kept building, on and on, like a forest fire..."

"And it's only the first day," added Harry in a weak tone.

"We should get started, then," said Hermione. She rummaged trough her bag and withdrew several books and pages of parchment.

"I knew N.E.W.T. year wasn't going to be pretty," said Ron after a few minutes of silent scribbling and studying. "At least Transfiguration isn't that bad."

"Tell your Gran I love her," said Harry across the room to Neville.

Neville looked up from _Fifty Three Things You Probably Shouldn't Know About Mushrooms_ and scowled.

"I just wish she wouldn't gossip about Professor McGonagall," said Hermione.

"_What?_" Ron stared at Hermione, incredulous. "I want to hear every story she's got! They're hilarious!"

"Oh, yes," said Ginny as she walked by. "Who would have known? Professor McGonagall, caught snogging in the library..."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, but said nothing and returned to her homework.

"What about Quidditch tryouts?" asked Ginny to Harry.

"Saturday," said Harry. Ginny exited the Common Room without another word.

"I've got to go," said Harry. "Er, Slughorn's asked me to—to do some stuff—for the Slug Club, that is."

Harry left, and Ron grumbled, "He'll be doing some stuff all right."

"They're probably going to the library," said Hermione without looking up from her homework. "There's far too much homework to waste time snogging at the moment."

"Well, that answers the question I was about to ask," said Ron grumpily as he readied his quill and parchment and began Professor Flitwick's Confundus Charm reversal essay.

"Finished," said Hermione after several long hours of quiet scribbling as she handed Ron his last paper. Harry had returned an hour ago.

"Thanks again, Hermione," said Ron. Hermione nodded and covered her mouth for a light yawn, before checking the time.

"Oh, my," she said. "It's late." Harry and Ron nodded in agreement.

Harry had already walked off to bed by the time Ron reluctantly let Hermione go and walked up the stairs to the Boys Dormitory himself. Inside, the room was dark and silent. A beam of moonlight lit a window-shaped spot on the ground, and a figure paced through it, casting a thin shadow onto the floor. Ron closed the door, and Harry turned to him, his spectacles gleaming like two bright silver sickles in the moonlight.

"Harry?" asked Ron as he made his way to his four-poster bed. "What's up?"

"Thinking," said Harry vaguely. He noticed Ron's raised eyebrows and continued, "About teaching."

"Oh."

"I think I might imitate Professor Lupin, as he was my favorite."

"Yeah. I rather liked Moody—er, fake Moody's style, even if he turned out to be pure scum. Hey, we just might actually learn something from this Astadourian fellow."

"Mmm..." Harry rubbed his chin. "Ginny says he's no Umbridge, but he seems to be all about theory."

"Guess we'll have to step in again." Ron grinned and burrowed under his covers.

Harry didn't seem satisfied, but went to bed all the same, contemplating how he would teach and recruit students not only for the D.A. but for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Ginny walked out onto the Quidditch Pitch with their hands raised to shield their eyes from the sun and saw that clumps of students were scattered across most of the stands. The three received a great cheer as they approached the mass of students that had lined up to try out for the team. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the returning team members wore Quidditch robes of rich scarlet and bright gold.

Similar to the previous tryouts Harry held, back in his sixth year, most of the students were barely fit to fly a broom. One unlucky Gryffindor third-year mounted his Comet Two Sixty side-saddle; the resulting crash elicited distant, howling laughter from the stands.

Harry quickly lost count of the number silly young girls that stepped up when called to try out, only to confess that they didn't actually own a broom and just wanted to talk to him. After a few hours, the group was whittled down to a respectable team.

Ron secured the Keeper position with little trouble, chiefly due to a private pep talk from Hermione earlier in the day, the precise details of which Harry made clear he never wanted to know. Ginny's flying greatly improved with her new Firebolt, and earning her spot as Chaser was a cinch. The evasive Demelza Robins also had little competition as the second Chaser. The third Chaser spot was a contest between Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, and Dennis Creevey. Dean barely edged out the other two to get the position. Beaters Ritchie Coote and Jimmy Peakes returned as solid players as well.

The team strutted off of the pitch together to leave the space open for Hufflepuff. Harry, Ginny and Ron stayed behind in the stands to scout the opposing team, and so did their following, which left the Hufflepuffs very confused as to why their tryouts were being observed by so many people. Ron shook with glee when each of the Battle-Axe Bandits were cut from the team.

"Just a shame the Bludger's not been released yet," said Ron as he propped his feet up on the row in front of him and relaxed. After a week, his hair had returned to its usual splendid orange, his teeth were clean and white, and his face was no longer lined and ragged.

"Do you know, Ron can really hold a grudge," remarked Ginny to Harry in a casual tone.

"I'm still the law around here," replied Ron haughtily. He pointed to his Head Boy badge with his thumb.

"Harry, I do love my new Firebolt," said Ginny with a wicked smile. "I just hope it'll still fly after it's been shoved up Ron's arse."

"Ha, ha."

"Well, mate, at least you'll be able to pretend you can fly without a broom," said Harry, grinning.

"That explains why Voldemort was so pissy all the time," chuckled Ron.

"Where's Hermione?" asked Ginny.

"She's really treating herself today—loads of homework," said Ron. "All those extra subjects. I'd hate to ruin her fun, but we should go visit her."

Harry, Ron, and Ginny climbed down from the stands and made their way across the grounds. Along the way, they passed the herd of students going to try out for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Amongst them was a girl with vibrant banana-yellow robes and a matching Balmoral bonnet. She embraced Harry warmly, and offered a less enthusiastic greeting to his red-headed teammates.

"Cho!" Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, hello."

"Hello, Harry," said Cho, with a giggle that made Ginny scowl.

"What're you doing here?"

"I'm off to the Owlery."

Harry racked his brain for a joke to be made about their incident with Filch in the Owlery nearly three years ago, but soon found that the window for comedic timing had passed. He noticed Cho blushing and staring at the ground.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I heard about your owl."

"Oh, no, it's okay." Harry shrugged. "Hedwig was a great owl—a truly great owl, and I'll never forget her."

Ginny tugged on Harry's sleeve and nodded towards the castle, but he didn't seem to notice. Then she walked off, huffing. Ron observed this and shot Harry his most menacing glare, but he too was ignored, so he strode off towards the castle, leaving the two teenagers in awkward conversation.

As Ron passed through the Stone Circle to get to the Covered Bridge, he caught a glimpse of something odd in his peripheral vision. He turned his head to see eight shiny pitch-black eyes staring at him, surrounded by a tangle of large, furry legs. Ron's face contorted comically in horror and he turned his back on the Acromantula and dashed through the Covered Bridge without a second look.

* * *

"I'm telling you, it was right there!" Ron insisted, pointing towards the edge of the forest, as he, Harry, and Hermione walked down the hill to Hagrid's Hut.

"I think you might be seeing things, mate," said Harry. "They live a lot deeper into the forest."

"I remember, thanks!" said Ron angrily. "And I live all the way down in Devon, England, but that's not where I am now, is it?"

"So you're saying this particular Acromantula is attending school in a bush at the edge of the forest?" asked Hermione, smirking. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" Hagrid waved a dustbin lid-sized hand at the approaching teenagers. "Thought yeh forgot about me!"

"Oh, Hagrid, it's only been a week," said Hermione, shaking her head and accepting a hug that threatened to leave her squeezed like a toothpaste container.

"Buckbeak!" exclaimed Harry. He approached the Hippogriff that stood with proud posture in the pumpkin patch.

"Bin' livin' in his nest on top o' me house," said Hagrid cheerfully, patting Ron on the shoulder; the force made Ron sink into the ground slightly.

Harry did not bother to bow, but waited for Buckbeak to lean forward and brush the curve of his beak against his shoulder before stroking it. Ron and Hermione approached carefully, but were welcomed by Buckbeak, who appeared to find it wasteful for someone to stand near him and not pet him.

"McGonagall's forbidden me ter teach with him a'course," said Hagrid. "Ter tell the truth, I don' think he was too happy bein' the subject of a lesson."

Hagrid tossed the carcass of a large rat in Buckbeak's general direction and the Hippogriff ate it whole in one chomp, then Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed the massive gamekeeper into his small home. Hagrid's hut had one room, with an enormous bed filling a good portion of it, a large circular table filling another, and the rest was a small kitchen area with copper pots and pans hanging from the walls and a fireplace in the corner.

The trio were immediately greeted by Fang, Hagrid's beefy black boarhound, as Hagrid put a kettle on the fire and spoke to the students over his shoulder. "How's yer firs' week?"

"Busy," replied Hermione while Fang rested his head in Harry's lap.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'nightmare,'" corrected Ron. "So much homework—I've gone through two quills already!"

"Yeah, that's seventh year for yeh. 'Course I only completed three..."

Hagrid crossed the room in two strides and poured tea into large wooden mugs, then distributed them to the three teenagers.

"Hagrid, we're thinking about continuing Dumbledore's Army as a sort of Defense Against the Dark Arts club," said Hermione between sips.

"Well tha's great, Harry! I'm proud o' you three, don' yeh know, with all you've done, not like any other student before yeh, tha's fer sure."

"Thanks, Hagrid," said Harry, grinning. "So, how's Grawp?"

"Oh, he's all righ'. McGonagall's said he can't go livin' with me at Hogwarts, n' it's best he stay away from Hogsmeade, but he's fine with his cave."

"Send him my regards, then. You know, I think it wouldn't be a true visit to Hagrid's without some of those rock cakes, what do you say?" asked Harry adventurously. Ron and Hermione shared a look.

* * *

"I just hope she'll allow it," said Harry to Ron and Hermione as they marched through the Transfiguration Courtyard on their way to McGonagall's office. "Looks like she's put the clamps on Hagrid."

"Everything she's done has been completely fair," said Hermione. "Don't look at me like that! You know you worry just as much as I do when Hagrid's decided to adopt a creature that can 'take care of itself,' which really means, 'burn, sting, or otherwise harm you.'"

"Hagrid's shown us loads of useful stuff, though," argued Harry. "Thestrals, Hippogriffs, Nifflers..."

"OI!" barked Ron, making a circle of nearby first-years jump. "No magic in the corridors! Go on!"

After Ron shooed the frightened first-years away by using magic himself, they arrived at the stone gargoyle that guarded the headmistress' office.

"Sloth Grip Roll," said Hermione confidently. The gargoyle hastily hopped out of their path.

The students walked up the moving spiral staircase and knocked on Professor McGonagall's door. "Enter," said a voice from inside.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Harry with a smile as he entered the room.

The headmistress' office was the same as Harry had last seen it, with Dumbledore's silver instruments whizzing and puffing smoke animatedly on a spindly-legged table, the snoozing inhabitants of the portraits on the walls, and the shining, fluctuating light of the Pensieve in the open cabinet by the shelves. Fawkes' absence left the room a bit duller, but the oddly realistic twinkle in the eye of Dumbledore's portrait slightly made up for it.

"Oh, hello, Potter," replied Professor McGonagall vaguely before returning to a note she was scribbling on a neat, official-looking page of parchment.

"Albus," said Harry. Dumbledore smiled in his portrait.

"The nerve!" cried Phineas Nigellus from his portrait high on the wall. "Why, in my day, if a student dared address me in such a way, they'd have been given what for!"

"It's quite all right, Phineas," said Dumbledore softly.

"How's it going, Albus?" said Ron confidently. Phineas huffed.

"Exquisitely," replied Dumbledore. "Though I've recently caught your painted brother cheating in our last game of cards."

Ron smiled wistfully, and Harry set his eyes upon the portrait of Severus Snape.

"Sever—"

"Don't you dare, Potter, or I'll see to it that Gryffindor is in negative numbers by the end of term," hissed Snape from within his portrait.

"Oh, will you?" said Professor McGonagall sharply, as though daring him to try. She rolled up the page of parchment she had been working on and sealed it with a red sticker, then sent it off clutched in the talons of a school owl.

"Professor McGonagall, I have a question," said Ron. "Why did you make me Head Boy and not Harry?"

Ron thought he saw the faintest semblance of a grin appear on Professor McGonagall's face, though it could have been his imagination; McGonagall had a nearly unreadable poker-face. She sat down and adjusted her spectacles.

"There are multiple reasons," she said. Ron tilted his head in intrigue. "The first is that I had to decide objectively who deserved the badge. Academically, you and Potter are nearly identical, but you have something he lacks—_prefect experience. _Your tenure as a Hogwarts prefect alongside Miss Granger has been considered a success—whether it is solely due to Miss Granger, I do not know."

Professor Snape tutted from his portrait, but Ron wasn't listening; Ron had widened his eyes, now viewing the matter in a new light, and smiled.

"What are the other reasons?" he asked. "You said there were multiple."

"Well, in all my years at Hogwarts, I'd never seen a Head Girl who was, perhaps, overqualified for the position," said Professor McGonagall with a glance to Hermione, whose cheeks were now burning a ketchup color. "And on the first year that the decision's been mine, no less." Ron looked puzzled, and Professor McGonagall continued, "It's good to have a balance. As Albus put it, 'while she does keep you in line, do not forget that you do the same for her.'"

"We had another question," said Hermione after elbowing a sniggering Harry in the ribs to silence him. "We've come to request permission to reform Dumbledore's Army, to help the students practice Defensive Magic. I assure you, we're qualified. Harry had us all conjuring corporeal Patronuses in our fifth year."

"There was also that whole 'killing Voldemort' business," mentioned Harry. Several of the portraits laughed.

"You may," said Professor McGonagall. "But, I can't let you use the Room of Requirement to do so. Filius had a look at it over the summer, and it may still be dangerous."

The trio bade goodbye to their headmistress and the residents of the many portraits in her office and set off down the corridor towards the Grand Staircase.

"We'll post a notice on the board in the Common Room," suggested Hermione. "Luna and Ernie can do the same for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

There was an awkward pause, but it seemed not even Hermione would consider the Slytherins.

"We need a venue," Hermione continued. "Somewhere large, preferrably indoors—somewhere people wouldn't wander into."

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" suggested Ron. "Nobody ever goes in there."

"Not for nothing, though," said Hermione. "Do you really want to conduct our meetings with Myrtle rampaging around the toilets?"

* * *

For the next few weeks, the six leaders of Dumbledore's Army roamed Hogwarts during their free time, searching for a place to hold their meetings. After a while, they'd gotten more and more desperate, and began asking the portraits that were scattered along the castle's every wall for information on any possible locations.

"Why don't we just do it in the Room of Requirement anyway?" whined Ron as he, Harry, and Hermione walked down a quiet hallway. "That's how we did it the first time—secretly."

"McGonagall was nice enough to allow it," said Hermione. "I'm not going to betray her."

"Potty Wee Potter!" shrieked a cackling voice from behind them. They turned around and Peeves bounced into view.

"Teehee! If it isn't young Potty himself!" Peeves continued. "Weasley and Grangey too! Me name is Weasley, I am big and tall! I'm called Grangey, I can bite a wall!"

"Oh, be quiet, my teeth aren't—RON! Stop laughing this instant!"

Harry drew his wand and looked around at the sniggering Ron and irate Hermione.

"What was that spell Lupin used? _Waddiwasa_?_ Wassawadi_?"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't do that, no no no..." Peeves drifted a bit closer. "It's information I've got, yes yes yes..."

"Are you talking about a place to practice for the D.A.?"

Peeves hunched over and leaned in close, as if preparing to tell Harry a secret, then reached into his pockets. Harry leaned in as well. Ron and Hermione watched skeptically. Then, with an ear-splitting _***BANG***_, Peeves ripped what appeared to be Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' entire stock of fireworks out of his pockets and set them off.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sprinted through the hallway, blinking their stunned eyes and hearing only the cracks and pops of the rampaging Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-Bangs and the maniacal chuckle of Peeves. They turned a corner and arrived at a dead end on the third floor corridor, and turned around, their eyes wide—the stampede of sparkling explosions was closing in on them. Ron attempted to open a door at the end of the corridor, but it wouldn't budge.

"It's locked!" cried Ron.

"Oh, move over!" Hermione snarled. She drew her wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "_Alohomora!_"

The door was unlocked, and Ron, having put all his weight on it, fell forward into the room. Harry and Hermione followed and they closed the door quickly, feeling it vibrate with the strength of the fireworks. Harry cursed Peeves as Hermione inspected a burn on his hand, and they heard Ron gasp quietly after he had shuffled to his feet.

"That's it!" he shouted.

"What's it?" Harry and Hermione looked around at the room.

It wasn't a room after all, it was a small corridor, completely empty, except for a few unlit candles along the walls. Ron stepped aside to reveal a trapdoor at his feet, and pointed to it, grinning triumphantly.

"Remember this?"


	7. Through the Trapdoor

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any relation to its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

The six leaders of Dumbledore's Army trudged through the moist dirt path to Hogsmeade village, which was coated with fallen leaves in splotches of orange, red and yellow. A few leaves fluttered against them in the brisk breeze, causing them to shiver. The sky was a dense fog of solid, smoky grey, broken only by the owls soaring overhead. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were discussing the use of the chambers under the trapdoor for their D.A. sessons.

"How will we get back up if there's no ladder?" asked Neville.

"Magic," replied Hermione simply. "I'll handle it."

"That's Hermione," said Ginny, smiling. "Always comes in useful."

"I would enjoy a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks first," said Luna, glancing at the others.

"Also got to stop by Honeydukes," mentioned Ron.

"Oh, you've _got_ to?" teased Hermione. "_Must_ you?"

"It's imperative."

"I often wonder," said Harry, "how the daughter of two dentists ended up with Honeydukes' most loyal customer."

As the six teenagers entered the Three Broomsticks tavern, Hagrid's presence was, as always, immediately apparent. He offered them a wave from the bar, then returned to a conversation with Seamus Finnegan and Lavender Brown.

"That's an unlikely trio," Harry commented.

Also hard to miss was a blonde curly-haired witch in pistachio green robes, who was sitting at a table in the corner, looking straight at Harry. She raised one large, masculine hand and beckoned him to her with a clawlike red fingernail.

"I'll get the drinks," said Neville quickly, and before anyone could offer to do it instead, he jogged towards the bar.

"Great," mumbled Harry. "Might as well see what she wants."

The D.A. leaders, minus Neville, approached Rita's table cautiously and didn't forget to shoot her their most menacing glares. She withdrew a notepad and an acid-green quill from her crocodile-skin bag.

"I won't consent to the use of that thing," said Harry. Rita sighed and replaced it with a normal quill. It was black and had a brown owl's feather.

"What do you want?" Harry continued.

"Well, as you know, I'm in the process of writing a series of books, and, as can be expected by a journalist of such fine repute as myself—"

"Oh, so you've decided to run it by me after all?" asked Hermione brightly.

"Yes..." Rita's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, Merlin's socks, Neville's attempted to carry all six Butterbeers himself," Ginny said, alarmed, then she ran off to help him.

"So," said Rita, clearing her throat and preparing to take notes. "I'm told that you had a conversation with the Sorting Hat during your Sorting. Can you tell me what was said?"

"I asked him not to put me in Slytherin, and he said — er — he said the idea was preposterous and that I was obviously a Gryffindor."

"Hold up, mate, you said the hat thought you were great for Sly—"

"Quiet, Ron," hissed Hermione, but the damage was done. Rita scribbled this information on her notepad eagerly.

"And is it true that you raised a dragon in your first year at Hogwarts, one that bit your best friend and threatened your relationship with your girlfriend?"

"No, Hagrid raised the dragon — Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback — I smuggled him out of the castle. Wait, what girlfriend?"

Luna laughed loudly, observing Neville as he approached with Ginny in tow, his shirt soaked with Butterbeer.

"Did I hear 'girlfriend?'" asked Ginny as she placed the glasses on the table.

Rita gestured towards Hermione. Harry snorted.

"Hermione and I have never been romantic," he said. "That's just some wacky rumor fabricated by some old tosspot—oh, er, sorry."

There was a bit of sniggering from Ron and Ginny, but Luna's loud cackle drowned them out.

"Besides, I think Ron would kill me."

Rita raised her eyebrows and she shot Ron and Hermione a look, then scribbled something on her notepad.

The rest of the interview was surprisingly mild, though Rita never missed a chance to go overboard. Ron predicted the finished product might tell of Harry defeating Quirrell and an army of Dementors and Inferi by beheading them all with a single well-aimed throw of Quirrell's turban.

"Tomorrow's the day," said Harry as they exited Honeydukes. "We'll announce the date of the first D.A. meeting. We'll have a password, too, like Potterwatch—we didn't need one before because of the Room of Requirement."

Between the purchases of Harry and Ron, there were enough candies to feed all of Gryffindor for a day.

"What will it be?" asked Luna under her new sky blue witch's hat that had a design of white clouds and stars; a gift from Neville.

Harry looked into Luna's eyes for a second, then said, "Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"Oh, that's nice of you. Yes, it is a fine choice."

* * *

One week after their first Hogsmeade visit, the six leaders of Dumbledore's Army entered the third floor corridor on the right-hand side to see a large crowd of students, most of them carrying their activated D.A. Galleons and chatting about defensive spells and stories of Dumbledore's Army. When the D.A. leaders arrived, they were greeted with several gasps and pointing fingers.

"Clear a path, you monkeys, I'm Head Boy!" shouted Ron as he forced his way through the sea of students, blazing a trail for the other five D.A. leaders. Harry was immediately reminded of Percy.

"_Alohomora,_" said Harry, without waving his wand. The door that led to the Trapdoor Room opened of its own accord. "Excellent work, Hermione. Nice touch."

Hermione beamed.

"Just wait," she said mysteriously.

The students piled into the room quickly behind Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna, all of whom were eyeing the trapdoor at the end of the corridor. But when the students entered the room, something happened that made them stop dead in their tracks.

A large mass of olive-colored dust arose from the ground, blocking the trapdoor from sight. The students backed into the corners of the corridor, away from the blob of dust that was collecting above the trapdoor, like an explosion in reverse. When it reached its full size, the mass of dust took the form of a gigantic three-headed dog with heavy shackles around its paws.

The giant golem of dust emitted a deep, raspy growl that quaked the corridor itself. Ernie Macmillan tried desperately to open the door behind them to escape, but all he managed to do was shake it violently. There were several gasps and shrieks among the trapped students as the giant dog began to prowl closer, each of its three mouths seeping streams of dust onto the floor. Then, it picked up speed and made a dash for the students, its three heads now thrashing and biting wildly.

"Crumple-Horned Snorkack," said Hermione calmly. Even her fellow D.A. leaders, with the exception of Luna, had backed away.

_*WOOSH*_

The dog disintegrated into a large puff of dust that swept through the corridor. Waving their arms to clear the cloud away, the six leaders walked over to the trapdoor. Ron crouched and pulled it open, revealing a steep hole. The bottom was not visible but for a blur of gray.

"I'll go first," said Hermione.

She hopped into the hole before anyone could stop her. The group waited for a moment, but there was no sickening thud to confirm that her body had splattered against the hard stone floor.

Harry shrugged and hopped in as well. After a moment, Ron followed. It wasn't as deep as the Chamber of Secrets pipe, but it was still a long drop. As he fell, Ron glanced down and saw the torchlit stone floor coming closer and closer. Moments before landing, he felt himself stopping in mid-air from a Cushioning Charm, which gave him a queasy pain in his stomach as if he were on a rollercoaster.

One by one, they were joined by the rest of the group. After cleaning up the mess of vomit Neville left from his trip through the trapdoor, they were off towards the room where Harry, Ron, and Hermione faced McGonagall's chess set.

"That's where we faced the Devil's Snare, first year," said Harry casually. "Flitwick's trial was here — had to catch a flying key on a broom."

"Oh, my hero!" said Ginny dramatically, putting a hand over her forehead.

"You're just lucky we didn't decide to use the Chamber of Secrets."

"Fat chance," mumbled Ron. "It's only you and me who can access it. The D.A. will continue after we've left, won't it?"

"I do hope so," said Hermione.

"Actually, Ron, you're the only one here who can access the Chamber of Secrets — I can't speak Parseltongue anymore."

"Makes sense, what with—"

"Can you take us?" asked an eager third-year student from the flock behind them.

"You don't want to go there, mate—OI! Don't interrupt me!"

"Ron!" admonished Hermione.

"This is it," said Harry. "Ron faced McGonagall's chess set on this board."

The Chess Room was vast and cubical. At the room's center, an elevated platform of checkered marble was placed. The room was lit by many torches along the walls similar to those in the dungeons, and there seemed to be a bright cyan glow coming from the chessboard itself. There was still a long vermilion stain of Ron's blood streaked across the board where he had been dragged. Ron hopped onto the board and walked to a particular square.

"Yep, this one, I think," he said. "H-Three."

"My hero!" cried Hermione, pretending to faint into Ginny's arms.

New to the room were several tables and chairs placed along the edges of the chessboard. Scattered along the tables were Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, Probity Probes, a Foe-Glass, Shield Hats, Extendable Ears, and Decoy Detonators. The new D.A. members were instructed not to touch the items. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna joined Ron on the chessboard, where they were cast in an odd light from below, as if standing above a lamp.

"All right, then," said Harry. "Welcome to Dumbledore's Army. You are here to learn practical Defensive magic and the use of Defensive tools and Potions. Third and fourth-years, your goal by the end of the year will be mastery of the Disarming Charm. Fourth and fifth-years, your goal will be mastery of the Patronus Charm."

There were a few gasps in the crowd. The returning members of the D.A. smirked.

"Sixth and seventh-years, well, we'll be getting a bit complex. You may just push the limits of what is taught at Hogwarts here in this class. If you need help with anything, ask Neville, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, or myself. If you need help with something and wish to be yelled at, ask Ron."

Ron huffed, and several of the students sniggered. Neville hobbled off the chessboard and fetched a large stand with a chalkboard on it. Various incantations were written in chalk to mark the subject of the lesson. On the corner of the board, Cedric Diggory smiled to the students from his photograph, occasionally waving to the Hufflepuffs. Next to him was the photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix. Hanging off the edge of the board was one of Hermione's elf hats, which looked more like a woolly bladder than an actual hat and had an embroidered name: _Dobby_.

"Right, then," Harry continued. "Dean, please get up here, and ... you, what's your name? Helen? All right, Helen, come up here and try to disarm Dean."

The young Hufflepuff girl Harry addressed scaled the side of the chessboard and stood to face Dean, who had taken a combative stance.

"Expelliarmus!" she squeaked while waving her wand wildly. Dean's wand fidgeted.

"Bin' hit harder than that by my dog's tail!" heckled a voice from a wall beside the chessboard.

Everyone turned to see the portrait of a young teenager, roughly sixteen years of age, with short, spiky black hair, beady eyes and a devilish smirk. Harry approached the portrait, his eyes wide and his brows knitted in confusion.

"Er—who are you?"

"Who'mai? Who're you? You're the one that's comin' down 'ere."

"I'm Harry Potter."

"Cheers. They put me down 'ere what for to get rid of me. Old bat that dunnit said some rubbish sounded like I'm not 'actin' my age,' get that?"

Harry stared blankly for a moment, then said, "Alright, then."

The boy in the portrait grinned, and Harry flinched at the sight; the boy's teeth were jagged and mangled. Harry turned back to the class and instructed them to continue. One by one, the third and fourth-years attempted to disarm the D.A. veterans, and repeated, showing little improvement. One third-year was ecstatic to see that he had successfully disarmed Neville, but it turned out that Neville had simply dropped his wand by accident.

"Aha! And he's the one teachin' you runts! Dropped 'is wand!" sneered the portrait of the jagged-toothed boy. Luna scowled.

Afterwards, Ron explained to the younger students the uses of the various tools that were scattered along the table, and made sure to mention that they could all be found at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Hermione took the sixth and seventh-years through all of the protective enchantments she used during the Horcrux hunt, and, by the end of the lesson, all of the returning D.A. members could produce an adequate Disillusionment Charm.

"That's all for today! You've all done really brilliantly!" called Harry to the attentive group of students. "Keep checking your Galleons every night for the date of the next meeting. The password will be 'Nymphadora.'"


	8. Rest in Paint

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

"Right this way, Mr. Weasley. The moon shall rise in ten minutes."

"_I think I might beat it.._."

_Stone circle ... What is that thing? Oh, no..._

"_There's something..._"

"Move along, now! We haven't got much time!"

_Those damned eyes!_

_"Spider—look, there—_"

"There's nothing there!"

_Fucking Flitwick ... I want to eat that little pygmy..._

"In here! Good luck to you!"

...

* * *

"Ron?"

"_Er-my-nee..._" Ron opened his eyes and saw a big bushy brown blur looming over him, and vaguely felt his body being inspected for wounds.

"I'm here, Ron," said Hermione, smiling weakly, tears pooling in her eyes.

"Hermione, my bloody—"

"I know, your fingernails—oh, Ron!" Hermione swept Ron into a tight hug, ignoring the saliva that oozed onto her robes.

"Dramatic," replied Ron with a grin that exposed darkened teeth; his gums were chocolate-brown with splotches of beige, similar to those of a dog.

Hermione leaned down and kissed him, but didn't have the stomach to offer anything more than a peck.

"Oh, that's disgusting," said a voice from across the room.

"Thanks, mate," growled Ron, turning and spotting Harry, who was carrying a bundle of folded clothing.

Ron stood and brushed himself off; his clothes had been torn apart during his transformation, exposing a bit of his orange Chudley Cannons boxers, and the unpleasant dusty taste of the leg of the nearest table still lingered in his mouth. Harry handed Ron his new clothes, including his school robes, and led the way out through the secret passage back to Hogwarts grounds.

By the time the trio had arrived at the base of the Whomping Willow, tapped the knot at its trunk that temporarily froze it, and started walking towards the Stone Circle, Ron and Hermione were already arguing.

"I'm telling you, I saw another one," said Ron, pointing at the trees of the Forbidden Forest beside them. "It was right there! Eight eyes staring right at me!"

"You were just seeing things—you were transforming, after all."

"I wasn't transforming when I saw them before!"

"Ron, you've got to stop this paranoia."

They were walking along the Covered Bridge when Ginny sprinted towards them from the other side and wrapped her arms around Ron. The sun was a shining semicircle on the horizon, illuminating the left halves of their bodies as they crossed the bridge.

"I'm okay, Ginny," said Ron softly. "Happens every month."

"It's just so lame."

"I agree."

"Y'know, Ginny, I stubbed my toe on the way to the shack." Harry put on an exaggerated frown. "I'm in pain."

"Oh, that's disgusting," grumbled Ron.

"Well, I think I know something that might cheer you up," said Hermione with a smile. "Breakfast."

When they arrived back at the castle, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat down to breakfast in the Great Hall. Perhaps due to Ron's less-than-mature nature, nobody questioned his choice of turkey drumsticks and pork ribs for breakfast, though his closest friends knew it was due to the full moon the previous night.

There was a general clamor among the students scattered across the House tables in the Great Hall when the post owls arrived. Naturally, Harry received the most of anyone. He set aside a letter from Andromeda Tonks, separating it from the rest, which were letters from fans. Harry had a growing stack of fan mail in his trunk that he was determined to read once he could find the time.

Ron received a letter of his own; he unrolled it and was splashed with a mauve liquid that seemed to shoot out of the parchment itself. His clothes instantly began to shrink wherever the liquid touched, until Ron's face turned purple from the constriction. Ron stood up and quickly waddled out of the Great Hall, attempting to pry open the collar of his shirt before it strangled him.

"Can you believe George?" said Hermione, scowling. "Cursing Ron while he's in this state..."

"He's ruthless," agreed Harry, though he was smirking with amusement as he carefully slid the cursed letter over to himself.

_Greetings! Tell me how this little stunt goes with the spectators, by return owl, if you can. Thanks!_

_- George_

Harry looked around the Great Hall to find several students sniggering and pointing after Ron. He withdrew his quill from his bag and scribbled a note on the back of the letter, then attached it to the tawny owl that was waiting patiently for the return, then offered the owl a bit of Ron's turkey and sent her off.

"What's that?" asked Ginny, pointing to a small white bird that was hopping around on the Ravenclaw table surrounded by Ravenclaw students in blue-trimmed robes that were watching it with confusion.

"A wild bird?" Hermione guessed. "It must be so confused by the enchanted ceiling, the poor thing," she said as she hurried over to the bird and brought it over to the Gryffindor table. It was a white pigeon with a small scroll tied to its leg. Harry took the piece of paper, unrolled it and read it with an amused smile as the pigeon took off and soared out through a high window.

_To Harry,_

_Hope this got to you all right. I don't know how you lot get those birds to listen. Oh, right, magic. Just want to thank you for keeping the family safe and everything. I heard about all that you did, from Hestia, and I know I never could have done anything like that. The weather's been nicer too, and Hestia says it's because the Dementoids are gone or something, so thanks for that. Anyway, I wanted to send you a pie or something, but the pigeon couldn't even handle a biscuit._

_— __Dudley_

"That was nice of him," said Hermione.

"Right, Dud's a real saint," said Harry, pocketing the note.

"What's got your wand in a knot?"

"Ron can't play today," said Ginny, casting a concerned glance in her brother's direction. "He'll be exhausted."

"He just had to go and transform—"

"Keep your voice down!" hissed Hermione. "And how do you think Ron feels—probably worse than you!"

"Well, I don't want my captaincy called into question because Dean has to fill in as Keeper!"

"Oh yes, all you'll be remembered as is Harry Potter, the boy who failed to lead a Quidditch team."

"You just don't understand," said Harry, and Ginny nodded in agreement.

Hermione huffed indignantly and excused herself, gathering her bag and heading towards the Gryffindor common room.

"Bowtruckle," said Hermione.

"Welcome back, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Fat—er—thanks." Hermione slid through the entrance to the Common Room, making a note to learn the Fat Lady's name.

Upon entering the common room, Hermione immediately caught sight of two redheads of hair over in the corner. She wasn't the only one watching them; like Harry, Ron had his share of fans, but he had no trouble getting rid of them after a transformation — it was as simple as smiling. Hermione strode over to Ron and Neville who were conversing with Fred's portrait.

"Is it... Forge?" asked Ron.

"That was your first guess, you unwise baboon," replied Fred. "Ah, Hermione Granger! Finally, a worthy foe!"

"Foe?" asked Hermione.

"We're trying to guess his password," explained Neville. "I've missed breakfast and I want some food from the kitchens."

"Oh."

"Have a shot, Granger," said Fred from his portrait. "You'll never guess it."

"Is it 'Voldemort?'" asked Hermione after a moment of thought. Ron and Neville shared confused looks.

"No, but that's a good guess."

"It's not a word you hear often," Hermione explained to Ron and Neville. "Hmm."

Harry passed by carrying his firebolt, and mentioned, "Quidditch."

"Ah, Quidditch, how I miss it," said Fred. "Dumbledore requested a second portrait placed in front of the best seats on the Quidditch Pitch. I hope he gets it, because that means Colin and I can watch too."

Ron, Hermione, and Neville bade goodbye to Fred and went to join the other Gryffindors at the Quidditch pitch. On their way out, they were pelted with a large scrap of parchment. Ron picked it up and saw a still photograph of Neville, Fred and himself in conversation.

"You do not photograph well," said Colin from his portrait, and that's when they noticed that the photograph had come from a slot installed below Colin's frame.

"Wicked," said Ron.

Hermione, Ron, and Neville arrived at the Quidditch pitch stands just in time to see the scarlet-robed Gryffindor team march out onto the field. Even without an experienced Keeper, the team was favored to win, with Ginny and Harry as their star players. Ron looked woebegone as he stared at the Gryffindor team longingly, wrapped in his cloak to stay warm. Both teams had entered the field, when—

_***ROAARRR***_

Everyone at the pitch covered their ears and looked at the commentary stand, where Luna Lovegood's lion hat had just emitted a loud roar. Professor McGonagall had been knocked out of her seat beside Luna.

"Hello, everyone. Welcome to the first Quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff," spoke the magically magnified voice of Luna Lovegood. "I expect it will be an adequate experience for the fans.

"There's Harry Potter and that fellow with the big cheeks—oh, the Hufflepuff captain, I'm told."

Harry and the Hufflepuff captain had just shook hands and were being briefed on the rules of the game by referee and flight instructor Madame Hooch. Before long, the fourteen players ascended into the air on their broomsticks and the match began. Gryffindor had possession of the Quaffle first, with Demelza Robbins weaving through opposing players and zooming Bludgers to get to Hufflepuff's goal post.

"That's Demelza Robbins with the Quaffle. I really like her name—but she's lost it—now that one Hufflepuff player has it, and he's doing some sort of move—oh! Hufflepuff scores!"

Dean had panicked and swerved in front of the wrong goal post as the Quaffle sailed by, and Harry gulped, wondering if he could save the game for them just as he had when Ron wasn't confident in his abilities. Determined to end the game early, Harry doubled his efforts in searching for the Snitch.

"No sign of the Golden Snitch, not even a shimmer. There's Hufflepuff scoring again—the Gryffindor Keeper must be having an off game, perhaps due to certain extraordinary invisible creatures, which are very sneaky—sorry, Professor," added Luna as Professor McGonagall instructed her to concentrate on the match. "Ginny Weasley with the Quaffle—she's lost it again. That's a colorful word, Ginny."

The pattern continued, and as the Snitch remained hidden, the Gryffindors were learning the importance of a good Keeper. It came to a point where Gryffindor would lose even if Harry caught the Snitch, and, as if to taunt him, the Snitch appeared then. Harry maneuvered around the opposing Seeker looking bored and defeated, and caught the Snitch with little effort. The game was lost, and the best Harry could do was keep the deficit low; any more points for Hufflepuff would count against them in the big picture.

Ron was staring at his feet with a grim expression as the Gryffindor team trudged miserably back to their locker room, with Dean fervently explaining that he is a Chaser, not a Keeper, and Harry assuring him that it's understandable. Hermione comforted Ron, while Neville was busy giving the cheering Slytherin section a piece of his mind.

* * *

"Nymphadora."

The three-headed golem of dust burst into an olive green cloud and swept through the corridor. Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood guided a group of young D.A. members through the trapdoor and the lower chambers to the Chess Room, where the rest of the D.A. leaders were chatting with some of the original members.

"Is that everybody?" asked Harry. Neville nodded.

The six leaders of Dumbledore's Army climbed onto the massive chessboard at the center of the room and stood side-by-side facing the students. Harry stepped forward and drew his wand.

"Fifth and sixth-years, we'll be doing Patronuses today," he said. "Please come up here. Third and fourth-years, wand handling drills with Neville."

The younger members groaned and drew their wands. Neville hopped off the chessboard and began teaching wand execution, which was described by many of the younger D.A. members as 'the boring part.'

"Think of a happy memory. Let it fill you up inside. Imagine how you felt during the memory. Picture it happening to you now."

None of the students managed to produce a corporeal Patronus, though there were a few promising wisps of white light. A translucent silver stag, otter, rabbit, and horse were sitting calmly on the edges of the board for demonstration. Ron was asked to remove his energetic terrier after it ran Neville's legs out from under him a third time while a sniggering Ron made no attempt to stop it.

"Alright, very good!" said Harry. "I didn't expect a full-bodied Patronus on the first lesson, don't worry, but now you know what to practice until your next lesson."

Once the last of the fifth and sixth-years had hopped off of the board, Harry turned to the seventh-years and returning Dumbledore's Army members, who perked up attentively. Neville, Luna, and Ginny listened closely as well, as they hadn't yet been informed of the day's lesson either.

"Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick... Has anyone here seen these people duel? It isn't a simple game of Stupefy tag with them, no, it's much more advanced stuff—spells they'll never teach us—and we're expected to walk out of Hogwarts after seven years armed only to stun and disarm."

Hermione watched on with concern as Ron grinned eagerly beside her.

"We're going to start with one of Dumbledore's favorites. Ron will demonstrate." Harry stepped aside to give Ron enough space.

Ron took a deep breath and shut his eyes tightly to brace himself.

"_Orbis Infernum!_" he bellowed, moving his wand in a circular motion as though stirring the contents of a large cauldron.

In the middle of the circle Ron drew in the air, a puff of fire appeared like a breath of wind and began gaining strength. The students and even Ron's fellow D.A. leaders stood back as it began to grow into a large fireball above Ron's head, where the air simmered with heat.

The blaze was about the size of a pumpkin when Ron's control slackened and it became unstable. It crackled like fireworks and flames began to lash out of it like orange tentacles. Ron's hair and robes were fluttering by the force of the fire, and several students were sweating and tugging at their collars. The fireball shrunk slowly, sending sparks and embers every which way, until it disappeared with a pop.

"_Bloody hell_," breathed Ron, his eyes drooping.

"When will we need something like that? It's too hard!" complained Seamus Finnegan. Several students near him nodded in agreement.

"For facing Magical Creatures," explained Harry. "Trolls, giants, and Inferi especially."

Several students recoiled at the thought.

"The next one is a bit less destructive, but perhaps more difficult to perform. Go on, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, her eyes set on the chalkboard, looking determined. She replaced Ron at the center of the board and raised her wand.

"_Poseidum Nexus!_"

Where Ron had produced a puff of fire from thin air, Hermione produced a splash of water, which sloshed and dripped as it grew into a large ball; it looked as though water was flooding into a big invisible fish bowl. Illuminated by the glow of the enchanted chessboard below, it looked like a floating planet of water.

It was about the size of Hagrid's Hut when Hermione could no longer maintain it. Her movements languished, her breathing hastened and she fainted, losing control of the massive figure. It came crashing down over the board, sending a large wave of water in all directions. The torrent pushed students against the walls and toppled the tables over. Some of the smaller students had gotten caught in the stream and were floating towards the exit as the water drained out of the room.

Hermione sat up after the water had spread until it was merely a wet floor.

"Oh my," she said. "I-I'm sorry!"

"Sorry?" said Dean. "That was wicked!"

Eager to learn the advanced spells, the seventh-years hopped onto the board and began testing them. Few had managed to produce more than a puff of fire or a glob of water. Luna was able to muster a fireball to rival Ron's and Neville managed to completely drench Ginny with his poorly controlled Poseidum spell.

On their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room after the lesson was over, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny came across four young Hufflepuff first-years huddled close together, conversing in whispers.

"I say we're at it again tonight, after hours—we can outfox Filch, that's no problem," said Roque, the blonde-haired boy.

"_Patience_, Roque," said Elena, the girl with wavy auburn hair and slightly chubby cheeks.

"Stop saying the word 'patience' as if you're some sage! I don't have the time nor the patience to be patient! I—er—Hi." Roque had been tapped on the shoulder by a smirking Ron and now stood before the Head Boy, shifting his eyes nervously.

"Planning to sneak out after hours?" said Ron, shaking his head. Behind him, Harry was shaking his head as well, but at Ron. "Naughty naughty, you'll get caughty."

"We didn't do anything!"

"What are you doing up here anyway?"

"We've just come from detention," said Munky, the tall boy with large ears and buck teeth.

"Admit nothing, Munky!" hissed Roque.

"Too late." Ron crossed his arms with a satisfied smile. "You've already got detention with Astadourian?"

"We were caught trying to re-install Umbridge's speakers across the school to broadcast Potterwatch," said Munky, defeated.

"You might want to be nice to us," said Elena. "We have a certain slice of information that we know you'll be dying to get your hands on."

"What's that?"

"The whereabouts of Remus Lupin's portrait," said Roque.

"Where is he?"

"What's in it for us?" said Blackboot, the boy with wavy black hair and black boots. "Information isn't free, you know."

"It's late," said Ginny suddenly. "Get back to your dormitories, off you go."

While perfectly ready to defy Ron, the Bandits didn't seem to have the courage to face Ginny, perhaps by George's warning. They hurried down the stairs towards the Hufflepuff Common Room near the Hogwarts kitchens. Harry looked around at Ginny and crossed his arms.

"But Ginevra," began Harry in an exaggeratedly sweet tone. Ginny narrowed her eyes. "How will we ever find out where Lupin's portrait is?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she said, smiling. "It's in Astadourian's office—he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, didn't he, and that's where they've just been."

Harry widened his eyes with a joyed smile and leaned in to thank Ginny with a quick kiss. In his haste, he missed and ended up kissing her eye, but didn't care, as he started jogging to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, leaving a startled Ginny behind.

Harry whipped through the classroom and ascended the spiral staircase to Astadourian's office. He knocked on the door a bit too frantically. When there was no response, he opened the door with a simple Alohomora spell and barreled inside. He immediately tripped over a large object and landed in a faceplant in the middle of the room. He sat up, repaired his glasses with his wand and looked at the object; it was a big steel contraption with several sections and suspension wires. It looked almost like a torture device.

Then, someone spoke: "Wotcher, Harry."

Harry's whipped his head around and saw two familiar faces in the portrait above Professor Astadourian's desk.

"Tonks! Remus!" he shouted. "They let you share a portrait?"

"No," said Lupin with a smile. "Her portrait is in the Hufflepuff Common Room."

"Oh—hang on, you were in Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Oh... I guess I'd just assumed all of the Order were Gryffindors," said Harry, bemused. "Except Snape."

"Hufflepuff's done plenty," said Tonks with narrowed eyes.

"I'm sure Harry didn't mean that," said Lupin diplomatically. "Hello Ginny, Ron, Hermione."

Harry turned around to see Ron eyeing the odd steel contraption at the center of the room curiously for a moment before spotting Lupin and Tonks in the portrait. Ginny was wiping Harry's face, dirty from its collision with the floor, in an almost motherly way while he struggled and fidgeted away from her tissue to look at Lupin's portrait.

"Hello, Remus," said Hermione. "Why have they put you up here?"

"It is Minerva's wish that this office not be left unsupervised after Umbridge's—_detentions_," replied Lupin bitterly.

"Then what's this thing?" asked Ron, pointing to the steel contraption. "Looks like something Filch might strap a first-year to."

"That's Professor Astadourian's exercise equipment," said Tonks.

"Wait a minute—Sirius!" shouted Harry. "Where's his portrait?"

"As far as I can tell, he hasn't got one. He didn't die defending the school."

Harry stared at Lupin as though still awaiting an answer. Ron and Hermione looked away politely, but Ginny gripped him in a hug from his side. The mood had darkened.

"Listen, Harry," began Lupin gently. "I know you're disappointed, but a portrait isn't like having your friend back. We've got very poor long-term memory of things that happen after our deaths. Our souls do not reside within these frames."

"I know, but it would have been nice," said Harry.

"Hey, what are your snappy portrait names?" asked Ron.

"We haven't got any," replied Lupin. "They suggested 'Lupin the Lycanthrope,' but I declined."

"As for me, well, I don't want everyone knowing my first name." Tonks grinned.

"You've got a lovely name, Nymph—"

"Don't you dare."

"Well, even though you might not remember this, Teddy's doing great. You won't believe what his hair gets up to these days."

The couple smiled. The door to the office opened, and their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher walked in. Professor Astadourian was a muscular dark-skinned man with curly wet-looking black hair and a large nose. He eyed the teenagers and then Lupin's portrait and appeared to have made the connection.

"Heelo," he said after a moment. He walked past them to his desk where he sat down and began scribbling onto a page of parchment with a small hawk feather quill. Off in the distance, a lunatic cackle sounded through the halls of Hogwarts.

"That'll be Peeves," said Hermione. "We should make sure he's not causing trouble."

Ron and Hermione exited the room.

"I'll be back later," said Harry to Lupin's portrait before he and Ginny followed the Head Boy and Girl out into the hall.


	9. This Is Halloween

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

October was at an end, and Hogwarts was decorated accordingly. Hagrid's magically enlarged pumpkins were scattered about the grounds, appreciated most by the Bloody Baron, whose spirits lifted with the Halloween season. The candles in the school's corridors were unlit; the halls were illuminated instead by the flickering orange glow of many sinister jack-o-lanterns that peered down at the students with wicked smiles.

Ron sat down on his four-poster bed in the Boys Dormitory high in Gryffindor tower, monitoring the Mermish Starflower on his bedside table warily. The flower, shining and transparent like a ghost, was difficult to miss, especially at night. Neville had explained to Dean and Seamus that it was his, and they didn't question it, knowing Neville's fascination with Herbology. As it was Halloween night, the leaves of the flower had curled inwards, telling Ron his transformation was near. Sure enough, when Ron glanced out the window, he saw the smoky outline of the full moon amidst the clouds.

The dormitory door opened suddenly and Ron turned around to see Neville being guided into the room by Harry, who practically pushed Neville onto the nearest bed and closed the door securely behind them. Harry turned to Ron and gestured towards the protesting Neville.

"We have a situation."

"What is it?" asked Ron, sitting up.

"Harry, stop meddling," said Neville, but Harry raised his hand to silence him.

"We're helping you, Neville. This needs meddling."

"Helping him with what?" asked Ron.

"_You_ gents can't help me with anything," said Neville, his arms crossed.

"_What?_"

"Of course we can help—it's to do with women, Ron," explained Harry. "Neville's got his eye on a girl."

"Oh, I see, I might come in useful in that department." Ron smirked. "But who's the girl?"

"He hasn't told me yet."

"And I'm not going to." Neville crossed his arms. "This has been embarrassing enough."

"Is it Hannah? All those cozy Herbology sessions?"

"No, she's just a friend."

"Luna?" asked Harry.

"No!" said Neville a bit too quickly.

"Ha!" said Ron. He stood up drowsily and made for the door. "Can't help you, Nev, it's late. Flitwick's probably waiting for me at the Entrance Hall. All I can say is _good luck!_"

Ron exited, chuckling.

"What's he mean by that?" asked Neville.

"Well, Luna's not really your normal girl," replied Harry delicately. "It'll be hard to know how you should handle this."

"That's what I like about her," said Neville. He drooped slightly. "She never doubts me like everyone else... doesn't think less of me when I tell her I can't produce a Patronus... she doesn't pity me like Hermione... she has strong beliefs and she believes me to be good, and that makes me feel like I am good—better than I ever thought, at least."

Harry gulped, unsure of how to respond, then removed his glasses and began cleaning them to busy himself.

"Well, Neville, Christmas break is coming up," he finally said after a long silence. "Invite her to your house and show her all those plants. She might think one of them is a Nargleberry or something."

"And if she says no?"

"Just do it. I'd rather face another Hungarian Horntail than watch another one of my friends dance around a relationship for seven years— it's one hell of a garden you've got there—just be sure to tell her she shouldn't bring any Snorkack horns."

At that, Harry left the Boys Dormitory, whistling idly as he hopped down the steps and glanced around the room as though searching for something to do. The room was buzzing with conversation, with students chatting by the fire, several quills scratching essays on parchment, and a few students playing Gobstones in the corner. A spark in Harry's emerald eyes told a watchful Hermione that this casual act was hiding that he was on a mission — that, and the poorly concealed Invisibility Cloak under his robes.

Harry smiled as he spotted his target: Ginny Weasley had just walked through the entrance to the Common Room. He strode towards her and stopped before her, offering the toothy Harry Potter grin he knew that, for some reason, she couldn't resist. She raised her eyebrows, looking as though she had read his mind.

"Ginny," he said. "How lovely it is to see you."

"Might it be lovelier if I wore a silly Scottish bonnet?"

"What?" Harry's smile faltered. "Gin, I've told you, it was just a chat. Cho and I, after all you and I have been through, it's stupid..."

"Yes, well, I've been meaning to_ girlfriend_ you about that for a while now. Now what're you up to?"

"I'm inviting you to accompany me to see Lupin's portrait again."

"Harry..."

"Stop worrying, Ginny. Come on, it'll be fun."

Harry gripped her hand and guided her up the stairs to the Boys Dormitory, with encouraging hoots and whistles from Dean and Seamus following him. Harry could faintly hear Fred swearing indignantly from his portrait as he entered the dormitory and closed the door. He turned to Ginny, who was now narrowing her eyes at him, and shrugged apologetically. Then he threw the Invisibility Cloak over Ginny and himself and guided her back down the stairs and through the Common Room.

Huddling together and crouching low so that the cloak reached the floor and didn't expose their ankles, Harry and Ginny slipped their way through the Common Room, carefully swerving around Gryffindor students until they made it out through the portrait hole. Feeling quite excited to take Ginny on one of his invisible nighttime adventures, Harry led the way up the stairs to the sixth floor.

Harry and Ginny were sneaking along the corridor that led to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom when Ginny grabbed Harry around his waist and tugged him into an empty classroom, nearly throwing the cloak from them in her haste. Harry followed her into the room and she closed and locked the door behind them. The classroom was dark but for the beams of white moonlight shining through its high windows.

"Why'd you do that?" asked Harry as Ginny removed the cloak. "Was it Filch? Mrs. Norris? We should have taken the map—"

"No, Filch wasn't there," said Ginny, looking concerned. "Harry, I'm worried that you may be using these portraits as if they were the real people back from the dead."

"Oh." Harry looked annoyed. "Don't be stupid, Gin, I know they aren't the real thing. I just like talking to Lupin."

"But it isn't Lupin!" said Ginny. "It's a portrait, and you've been clinging to them, and so has Ron!"

"So why haven't you?" asked Harry, his tone somewhat accusing. Ginny winced, then looked down.

"Because we had a funeral for Fred not too long ago, and that's when I said my goodbyes and understood he's never coming back."

"Ginny, I think you'd be a fool not to enjoy the imprint of Fred's personality that's capable of conversation."

"Watch it, Harry," warned Ginny. Harry recoiled. "Fred was my brother, and I can't try to make up for his death with a portrait. They don't grow, you can't touch them—"

Harry experienced something quite odd; a lack of a sharp stab of anger. It was as though he had expected himself to overreact, as he would have just a year ago. "Shame, too, what with that portrait of Theresa the Temptress down by the Charms Corridor," he joked in hopes of lightening the mood.

Ginny rolled her eyes in response.

"Though who needs Theresa when I've got Ginevra the Gorgeous right here?" he said slyly.

There was a wolf's howl out in the distance, and Ginny looked out of one of the classroom's windows, and Harry once again thanked Merlin or perhaps Mrs. Weasley for how beautifully Ginny's skin shone under the starlight. Her eyes, however, were wide with worry. Harry glanced through the same window and saw the swaying figure of the Whomping Willow beside the castle, under the full moon, and the tiny dot that was Professor Flitwick making his way back to the Covered Bridge.

"I hope he'll be all right," said Ginny heavily.

"He will," assured Harry, sliding an arm around Ginny's shoulder. "He does this every month."

"I meant in life." Ginny leaned into Harry's chest and sighed. "It won't be easy; it certainly wasn't easy for Professor Lupin."

"Not many werewolves have Hermione Granger by their side," reasoned Harry.

"Fair point." Ginny leaned away from Harry to meet his eyes. "Hey, Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever had any interest in her?"

"No." Ginny remained quiet, and Harry continued, "Not that she isn't lovely, but, blimey, Ginny, have you ever had any interest in Ron?"

"Good answer."

Ginny grasped Harry's forearm lightly, and Harry knew this to mean he had done well and was about to reap a magnificent reward. They leaned in and met each other's lips, and before long they were tangled together, propped slightly against a desk, on the surface of which someone had carved an insignia that read _B.A.B._

"B.A.B.?"

"No idea."

"Want to go to the Prefects' Bathroom? It's not a bad place to take a bath," said a grinning Harry during a short break for breath. It had become routine for Harry to suggest something like that and be denied, or in some cases, struck.

"My, aren't you—" Ginny began, but she was alerted by a loud _BANG_ at the classroom door.

Harry cursed Filch and pulled Ginny under the Invisibility Cloak, then exited the classroom after a few minutes, heading straight for the Gryffindor Common Room.

* * *

In a large cylindrical room with several checkered yellow-and-black tapestries and black four-poster beds with yellow pillows, three first-year students were huddled together under a large banner of a black badger. They were crouched over a square piece of parchment with a blueprint drawn on it, pointing at various points of interest that were marked with circles. The blueprint was a rough map of Hogwarts, including its secret passageways, and several annotations were added to chronicle the castle's hidden magic.

"We'll also need one right here, behind the statue of the Spectral Squib," said Bandit leader Sherman Roque. His two friends nodded in agreement. "The Owlery, the Clock Tower, the dungeons and the courtyards will be easy—the gate will be open because of Hagrid's party—and we'll need to get the Grand Staircase, Library and Great Hall done in the middle of the night."

"But Roque, when are we doing this?" asked the tall and skinny Munky.

"Tonight, Munky, haven't you been listening?"

"_Tonight?_" repeated Elena, her blue eyes widened in shock.

"If this is about _patience_, Ellie, you can drop it," growled Roque. "It's Halloween, after all, tonight's the best night for it. The teachers will be distracted by the festivities, the ghosts will be busy with their party, and, if we're lucky, Filch might trip over a pumpkin and break his hip."

"'Tis Halloween!" said a voice from outside the dormitory in the Hufflepuff common room.

The circular wooden door to the dormitory opened by rolling sideways into the wall, revealing a grinning first-year with wavy, shoulder-length black hair and black boots. He was hugging several Butterbeer bottles to his chest, and they clanked and rattled together when he walked over to his three friends.

"Hi, Adrian, we were just going over the plan," said Elena.

"Halloween!" Blackboot repeated. He lobbed Butterbeers to his colleagues. "The moon is full and bright!"

"And we shall see what can't be seen on any other night!" supplied Munky. Soon the three boys were chanting in unison.

"Skeletons and ghosts and ghouls! Little goblins fighting duels! Mummies rising from their tombs! Flying witches on their brooms! In masks and gown we haunt the street, and knock on doors for trick or treat! But tonight we shant be seen, for tonight it's Halloween! Bandits play all night and day! Bandits do what Bandits may! It's our night, we're on the prowl! Might have been yours, but it's ours now!"

"Fine," said Elena. "But I think that chant is—"

"Stupid, we know," said Blackboot exasperatedly. Elena frowned.

"What were you doing in there anyway?"

"Grabbing a few snacks from the party."

"And a few girls!" added Elena. "You were down there with Donna Wessger weren't you?"

"Jealous?" asked Blackboot slickly. Elena shook her head with fervor.

"Donna Wessger can wait, Blackboot!" said Roque. "We don't have time for girls!"

"Except me, I hope," said Elena with a mock frown. Roque rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on! I'm a Bandit, aren't I?" asked Blackboot. The others looked at each other.

"Come on, look at me." Blackboot stuck out his chin and pointed at his face. "Tell me I'm not a Bandit. Is this not the face of a Bandit?"

"Fine, you're a Bandit," said Munky. "Let's get back to the plan. How are we going to carry the megaphones without making any noise?"

"With this," said Roque. He withdrew a small beaded bag from his pocket and placed it near their map. "Nicked it from Granger. George said it's bewitched to hold a closet's worth of stuff."

"But how'd you get it from her?" asked Munky, impressed.

"There's a passageway to Gryffindor's Common Room from the kitchens. Fred Weasley's portrait guards it."

"Wicked."

"Get the megaphones." Roque took a deep, bracing breath. "Let's go."

The Bandits sidled along one of Hogwarts' stone walls of the Clock Tower Courtyard, then stopped behind a bush in the corner. The night was calm and still, except for the faint buzz that was Hagrid's Halloween party in his hut off in the distance. They'd placed Extendable Ears at every entrance to the Clock Tower, and Munky stood guard at its base, with each of the Extendable Ears' strings inserted into his big ears.

Roque scaled the Clock Tower and reached the clock's face with Blackboot standing below, ready to catch him should he fall. Roque attached the megaphone to the Clock Tower by its built-in Permanent Sticking Charm and tested its functionality with a wave of the wand.

After similar megaphones had been placed atop the Owlery, on the Quidditch Pitch, down in the dungeons, in the Library, in the Great Hall and in the remaining courtyards, the only location left was the Grand Staircase, which was the most problematic of all.

"How are we going to do it?" sighed Munky, sounding hopeless. "There are so many portraits, so many witnesses..."

"What, are you new here?" said Roque as he withdrew a large pouch of Peruvian Darkness Powder from Hermione's beaded bag.

"George doesn't ask questions, does he?" asked Elena, grinning.

"Nope."

Roque glanced up at the small figure of Peeves the Poltergeist who was hopping around the staircases, drawing mustaches on various portraits with a stolen quill, which the portraits would then immediately and painfully remove by ripping them off.

"Peeves!" called Roque. Peeves descended to the first floor, dodging the moving staircases and somersaulting along the way.

"Firsties out of bed!" he cackled. "Silly, silly, I'll tell Filchy!"

"What if we give you a gift?" asked Roque. He thrusted the pouch of Peruvian Darkness Powder into Peeves' little clawlike hand. "Go mental."

Peeves looked delighted, and, before long, the flying poltergeist had showered the entire Grand Staircase with thick, consuming darkness. By the time it cleared, Blackboot had already placed a megaphone on the bottom of a staircase leading to the sixth floor.

The Bandits were on their way back to the Hufflepuff Common Room when they heard voices coming from what should have been an empty classroom. They shifted against the door of the classroom and placed their Extendable Ears under it; then they could hear the voices of a boy and girl in conversation.

"That's Harry Potter," said Elena. "And George's sister, Ginny."

"Ginevra the Gorgeous?" said Blackboot. "I never knew Harry Potter was such a sop..."

"Sounds like it worked," said Munky, as smooching sounds could be heard.

"B.A.B.?" asked Harry from within the room, clearly having noticed the carving on the desk.

"That's my desk!" exclaimed Roque, horrified. "What're they doing on my desk? Take your ears out from the door!"

The Bandits complied, and Roque gave the door a great loud kick, then quickly ran off towards the basement to the Hufflepuff Common Room with his Bandits in tow.


	10. Scorpagog

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

As November rolled on, snow began to swirl down from the foggy winter skies and blanket the grounds of Hogwarts. The mountains in the distance were capped with white powder, and Herbology students could count on being pelted with a snowball or two on their way to the greenhouses. One such assault cost a mischievous Ron Weasley twenty points from Gryffindor when his snowball veered off its mark and knocked Professor Sprout's hat clean off. "Our own Head Boy," she said with disappointment.

It was the weekend, and, after Double Transfiguration the previous day, the seventh-year Gryffindors' homework was refreshingly scarce. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny walked down the hill to Hagrid's hut, vaguely following a zig-zagging path of stone steps. As they passed the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Ron frequently cast nervous glances through the trees, eyeing the swaying branches with suspicion. Hagrid could be seen in his pumpkin patch, teaching a terrified Neville Longbottom how to properly bow to Buckbeak the Hippogriff.

"Hey, you lot!" called Hagrid with a broad smile. "Good ter see yeh—woah there, Neville, not too close!"

Neville nodded and crawled away from Buckbeak, bowing so low that his chin brushed against the dirt; the Hippogriff looked rather amused.

"Hello, Hagrid," said Hermione as Harry and Ron greeted Buckbeak. "All right, Neville?"

"Fine," said Neville without looking up from his bowed position.

Harry said nothing as he approached and curled his arms around Hagrid's sides in a tight hug, though he couldn't hope to reach them all the way around the half-giant's midsection.

"All righ', Harry?" said Hagrid, patting Harry's back. "Hey, Hermione, did yer bag ever turn up?"

"Yes," replied Hermione. "It's the strangest thing, it was just sitting there by Fred's portrait a few days after Halloween."

"Fred was probably just having a laugh," said Ron. Hermione stared at him, concerned, and he continued, "What, it's not like he's not clever enough to orchestrate it, even as a painting!"

"Fred didn't _become_ a painting, Ron," said Ginny in a small voice. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Let's not start with'at," said Hagrid, his breath hitching a bit. His eyes welled up slightly and he turned to enter his house. "Come on in, I'll make tea. Neville, you keep at it, n' call me if ol' Witherwings here gives yeh any trouble."

The group followed Hagrid into his hut. In two earthshaking steps, Hagrid walked to the kitchen area and put a shiny copper kettle over the fire.

Harry's eyes settled upon a new addition to Hagrid's small home: a big cubical fishtank set on the round wooden table that took up most of the hut's space. Harry approached the tank, eyeing it apprehensively. It was was filled with a pale green liquid that had a rainbow sheen like antifreeze. Inside the tank, there appeared to be a live, beating human heart; upon closer inspection, Harry saw that it was not a heart but a fleshy, translucent sack. The silhouette of an eight-legged embryo could be seen floating weightlessly in the sack, twitching occasionally.

"What is it, Hagrid?" asked Harry with a tone of genuine interest that reminded Hagrid of their first trip to Diagon Alley.

"That?" asked Hagrid, who was trying to sound oblivious. "That's, er... _Scarpog_."

"What was that?" asked Hermione, crossing her arms and glaring icily at the muttering half-giant.

"Scorpagog," said Hagrid, clearing his throat and raising his hands to quell the outbursts of _'No!'_ and _'Not again!'_ "Calm down, will yeh?"

"No," stated Hermione firmly, poking a finger into Hagrid's chest.

"Aragog was jus' misunderstood!" said Hagrid.

"Yeah, by you!" said Ron, stepping up behind Hermione, who was staring Hagrid down authoritatively with her hands on her hips.

"Yeh don' know him like I did is all," reasoned Hagrid. Ron shook his head. "I jus' wanted a friend, eh?"

"So raise a creature without claws and poison," suggested Ginny.

"Well I can' jus' kill 'em, can I?" said Hagrid as he walked towards Scorpagog's tank. "He'll be hatchin' soon, crawlin' 'round n' talkin'."

"I think he's wicked," said Harry as he rubbed his sleeve along the glass in a circular motion to clear it up, still peering inside.

Harry received a warm smile from Hagrid, but the rest of his peers were gobsmacked.

"Reckon he'll be as big as Aragog?"

"He jus' might be!" Hagrid was beaming proudly at Harry. "Firs' yeh wanted ter see the Wolf-Man, now yer askin' 'bout Scorpagog. Found a new passion fer Magical Creatures, Harry?"

"I signed up, didn't I? I've found a new passion for everything," said Harry thoughtfully. "With Voldemort gone, I feel just like I did in my first year—no, even better—a weight's been lifted from in my chest, literally, and now a whole new magical world is open to me, and I can fully enjoy everything it has to offer."

"Harry, you can't possibly expect that to mitigate this quandary," said Hermione, her diction flaring up as she struggled to remain calm. "And Hagrid, I know it would be hard for you to kill it, but even worse is letting it live! With respect to the procedural conundrum of arthropod banishment—"

"English, Hermione!" groaned Ron.

"Oh, _honestly!_" cried Hermione, raising her hands in frustration.

"Calm down," said Harry. "Besides, think of the—er—academic value."

"_Academic value?_"

"Yes, the students of Hagrid's class will be in for a real treat, won't they?"

"Hang on, I'm not gonna teach with'im!" said Hagrid. "I'd be mad!"

Hermione looked quite like she was going to retort, but decided not to.

"Yeah, Hermione," said Ron with a goofy grin. "At least Pomfrey won't be lonely this year."

"He won't hurt no one, I swear!" urged Hagrid, but Hermione wasn't convinced.

"Harry, I don't know where you've gotten this interest in Magical Creatures, but it's clearly clouded your judgment."

"I'm not the one snogging one," Harry shot back at her.

"Oi!" barked Ron. Hermione's cheeks turned pink and Hagrid smiled warmly.

Hermione exhaled a great sigh and turned to Hagrid.

"If just _one_ person is hurt by this _thing_, I'm going straight to the headmistress," she warned, before marching out in a huff. Harry, Ron, and Ginny followed.

"Look, Hermione, I've done it!" said Neville outside. He was petting Buckbeak's long neck with a trembling hand.

"Oh," said Hermione, her expression softening. "Good, good job."

"Never was very good with lifeforms that move," said Neville as he joined the group on their way back to the castle. "Probably my worst subject, actually, next to Potions."

"Shame, too," said Ginny. "With your Herbology skills—those two go hand-in-hand, don't they?"

"Not always," said Hermione.

"It's the weekend!" protested Ron. "Let's talk about something else!"

"Such as?"

"Quidditch?"

"Oh, you _would_."

"Everyone here _would_ talk about Quidditch, 'sept you."

"All right, Ron," said Ginny. "How have the Cannons been ranking lately?"

"Um." Ron coughed. "I don't want to bore Hermione."

Ginny and Hermione giggled, and Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets grumpily.

They had arrived at the paved courtyard on their way back to Gryffindor when a voice called out to them. They turned to see Cho sitting on a small bench in front of a brutish stone gargoyle amidst a group of seventh-year Ravenclaw girls.

"Harry!" said Cho, waving.

She bade goodbye to her friends and approached Harry. Neville had the foresight to make a quick and quiet escape as Cho neared; Ginny and Hermione glared at Cho as though willing her to explode. Harry scratched the back of his head awkwardly and looked to Ron for help, but Ron merely shrugged.

"Cho, good to see you," said Harry finally. Cho offered a half smile, distracted by Ginny's glare. "How are things at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Same as ever," said Cho. "It's a good place to work, do you know, always a fun atmosphere..."

"Yeah, I imagine so."

Ginny tugged on Harry's elbow again, but he didn't budge. Ron was on the verge of cracking up with laughter at the tension, and Cho was glancing between Harry and Ginny, looking confused. A few students were starting to stare at the group from the balcony on the floor above them, distracted from their homework.

"Hold on, Ginny," said Harry as his girlfriend started pushing him towards the tall double doors with all her might.

Ginny made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl and marched out of the courtyard without looking back. Hermione scowled at the back of Harry's head then walked past him to follow Ginny. Cho was staring at the ground, her cheeks faintly pink, and Harry did the same. After a moment, Ron clapped his hands together and grinned cheekily.

"So, how about those Tornadoes?" he said. Harry and Cho ignored him.

"I'm going to go," said Harry. "Goodbye."

"Bye, Harry," said Cho. She turned and walked out of the gate towards the Boathouse.

There was a blitz of sniggering from the balcony on the floor above Harry and Ron when they exited and made their way towards their common room. After offering a cursory greeting to a passing Nearly Headless Nick, Ron slapped Harry on the shoulder consolingly.

"Women, mate," said Ron wisely. "They're easily upset."

"This isn't fair," said Harry as they rounded the corner and entered the grand staircase. The clouded sky outside offered little light through the windows of the entrance hall, so the torches on the walls saw fit to ignite themselves, casting a golden haze over the many staircases and portraits of the grand staircase.

"Put yourself in her shoes. What if she started talking to Dean?"

"She talks to Dean quite often!"

"Oh... is that why you're doing this? You're jealous?"

"I'm not doing anything! And you're one to talk—what if I invited Viktor Krum over for Christmas?"

"_Wizarding world mourns the loss of famous hero Harry Potter,_" quoted Ron as though reading a newspaper headline. Harry grinned despite his mood.

"Bowtruckle," said Harry to the portrait of the Fat Lady. She nodded and opened to reveal the busy Gryffindor common room.

Harry and Ron walked through the portrait hole and were greeted by the usual flash of light from Colin Creevey's portrait.

Then, an angry voice spoke: "There you are, Harry, you great git."

Harry and Ron turned to see Fred Weasley standing in his portrait with crossed arms, looking displeased.

"What?"

"Was she crying?" asked Ron, his grip on Harry's shoulder tightening.

"Ginny? No, you fool, she was swearing. And you call yourself our brother..."

"I haven't done anything—" began Harry, but he was interrupted by a sound from outside the portrait hole.

A blaring score of epic trumpet music was blasting from the grand staircase. Gryffindors were barreling out of the portrait hole to investigate the source of the noise. Harry recognized it as the introduction theme to Potterwatch, and vaguely recalled the leader of the Battle-Axe Bandits mentioning Potterwatch in Hogwarts. Soon, the music faded and the jubilant voice of Potterwatch host Lee Jordan rang through the halls.

"Welcome all, to Potterwatch in the afternoon! I'm River, your host. We're broadcasting live from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes at ninety-three, Diagon Alley, the one-stop shop for all of your mischief needs! That's right, Skiving Snackboxes, Puking Pastilles, Weasley's Wildfire Whiz-Bangs! We've got them all!"

Ginny, Hermione, Parvati, and Lavender exited the portrait hole last. Harry supposed they'd been talking together in the Girls Dormitory.

"George is way too clever," said Seamus, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special treat for you today," continued Lee. "I am sitting opposite the Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, or as some of our long-time fans may know him, Royal! Welcome back to Potterwatch, Minister."

"Thank you, River. You know, I'm still getting used to that title."

Students and teachers were bunching up all along the grand staircase in mass confusion. It seemed even the staircases had stopped moving to listen.

"What can you tell us about the state of the Ministry reform?" asked Lee.

"There's been important news on that front. The Dementors of Azkaban are being removed from their post and replaced by a highly trained guard of witches and wizards. The goal is complete extermination of these foul creatures."

There was a buzz of whispers following this information.

"What do you say to those who say the Dementors are the most effective guards of the prison?"

"I would argue that the Dementors are a bastion of the Ministry's old corruption. The Dementors are a corrosive agent and the path to a clean and just Ministry must include sacking the Dementors."

There was even more clamor amongst the stunned students when the headmistress walked briskly into the grand staircase with Filch in tow. The grizzled caretaker pointed to a staircase on the sixth floor, under which a megaphone had been installed. Professor McGonagall blew the megaphone to bits with a calm wave of her wand and moved on to another location where the Potterwatch broadcast survived in the distance.

"Shame," said Ron. "I was listening to that."

"Mission accomplished, though, yeah?" said Dean. "If George was behind this, he got his advertisement in."

Harry looked around for Ginny, perhaps to join her in admiration of George, but she had already gone. Ron gave Harry a sympathetic nod before returning to the common room.


	11. In the Dog's House

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

The rest of November came and went, and before he knew it, Harry found himself standing before the swaying Weasley home on Christmas break. Despite Ginny's frostiness towards him, Harry was smiling, with recollections of joining Ron in heckling a successful Neville Longbottom who had shared a compartment on the Hogwarts Express with Luna Lovegood and no one else. According to Hermione, it was a great pair. According to Ron, '_bloody hell._'

Harry frowned as the redheaded object of his affection brushed past him and entered the unsturdy home without acknowledging him. Ginny had been particularly icy with him since the incident with Cho, especially as Harry had no apologies for his actions. Hermione seemed torn, and attempted to remain neutral. Ron took the role of the wise old sage who could be relied upon to dispense advice about handling women. This advice, which Ron never dared divulge in the presence of Hermione, tended to steer Harry in the wrong direction.

The Burrow was as magical as ever; dishes were washing themselves over the sink, brooms were sweeping dust from the floor of their own accord, and the magical clock which displayed not the time of day but the current state of each member of the Weasley family was still in place, keeping tabs on Harry's red-haired friends.

"I'll have time to prepare a batch of Wolfsbane Potion for you, Ron," said Hermione after they had entered the Burrow and Mrs. Weasley got to Harry and, after hugging him tightly, began straightening his collar and tucking in his shirt.

"That'd better not be my present," murmured Ron.

"I should hope that a witch who's willing to slave over a hot cauldron would be good enough for my son," said Mrs. Weasley reproachfully.

The tips of Ron's ears reddened along with his cheeks and he suddenly became very interested in a nook on the wooden floor, while Hermione was unable to hide her smile. The door crashed open and in came Mr. Weasley, barely visible behind the towering Christmas tree in his arms. Harry and Ron helped him lug it through the house and attach it to a small iron stand in the living room. It was so tall that its tip was bent against the ceiling.

"Let's decorate it!" said Hermione merrily. Ron sighed.

Hermione insisted on decorating the tree the Muggle way. She could have, with a wave of the wand, assigned ornaments to their positions, if not for her fancy for what she described as 'the fun part.' This also meant Ron had to help with the areas she couldn't reach. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were placing little gleaming silver Hippogriffs and sparkling stars around the tree, which Mrs. Weasley then bewitched to emit a golden glow, when — _*pop* —_ George Weasley materialized in mid-air over the living room couch, already in a reclining position, and landed on the couch with a thud, making it exhale puffs of dust from its sides.

"Hey, has anyone seen my ear? I appear to have misplaced it." George grinned, stood, and raised his arms, allowing his mother to bombard him with a hug.

In the midst of George's sudden appearance, the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione didn't notice the quiet entrance of a young centaur girl until she approached Ron and tapped him on the leg. When he turned, his face lit up with joy and he crouched down to squeeze her in a tight hug, making her emit a squeak.

"Helinora!" he said, and soon the centaur was receiving the same warm reception as George.

The night continued with jolly greetings on the arrivals of Percy and Bill and Fleur. By the end of the night, the halls were sprigged with holly and shiny bells, mistletoe hung from the ceilings and the Christmas tree was filled with so many enchanted ornaments that it illuminated the room by its golden glow and silver sparkle.

The size of their Christmas Eve dinner wasn't as absurd as expected from Mrs. Weasley, as she was saving the real feast for Christmas day, but the food was plentiful. Percy had charmed a harmonica to play on its own by the table as they ate, much to Helinora's delight. Old friends conversed, and there was much chatter about Hogwarts, the Ministry, and George's Potterwatch stunt.

"Free advertisement," said George dreamily. "Now that's something you just can't buy."

Soon they were off to bed, and Ron and Hermione said their goodbyes physically, while Harry was denied coldly by Ginny beside them. Harry and Ron climbed the noisy stairs to the room they shared and hopped into their beds.

"You know, Harry," said Ron from his bed across from Harry's. "I was looking forward to a bit of time alone in this room with Hermione, but someone had to go and tick my sister right off..."

"How awful to be you," muttered Harry into his pillow. "And I rather dislike being privy to whatever it is you do with Hermione, if you don't mind."

"Now you know how I feel."

"That's true. I'm full of food and my girlfriend is hacked off at me; it's the Ron Weasley experience. If only I could have done it properly by going to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow."

Harry paused, anticipating Ron's retort, but Ron had already fallen asleep.

* * *

Ron awoke the next day to see Harry walking through the room and stacking presents with shiny scarlet-and-emerald wrappings onto his bed. Ron identified them as presents Harry had received in the post from fans. Ron sat up and groaned a long yawn, then stood and approached the window. The view was nearly pure white, with a brown line of trees on the horizon splitting the bright snow and sky. A faint sputtering of what sounded like a car engine could be heard below.

"Ron, let's go," said Harry with a grin. "Presents!"

Ron gladly followed Harry down the stairs which squeaked and creaked under their weight. In the attic, the Weasley family's ghoul was banging a pipe against the wall for no apparent reason other than to match the noise. Ron beat Harry to the living room and skidded to a stop before the shining Christmas tree. Percy had just placed three identically sized gifts under the tree, with tags that read 'Ginny,' 'Ron,' and 'Harry.'

Hermione and Ginny jogged through through the room from the staircase, followed by George. Ron handed Ginny and Harry their gifts from Percy and the three tore them open and found full sets of Gunboot's Quidditch Armor, which included high-quality leather padding and steel-plated gauntlets and boots designed to withstand blows from Bludgers. They thanked Percy fervently, and he smirked, looking as though he had just given rain to a desert.

Harry didn't mind. He was feeling rather smug himself, as he reckoned his gift to Hagrid was just as thoughtful; he had left a case of antivenoms under the small tree in Hagrid's hut before leaving for Christmas Break.

Then Hermione handed Ron a neatly wrapped gift that was small and rectangular and unmistakably a book. Ron eyed it as though it had eight legs and fangs when Hermione placed it in his hands..

"A book?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose it's not as bad as a homework planner, but you gave Harry enough sweets to last him ages—"

"Just open it!" insisted Hermione.

"All right, keep your hair on." Ron obliged, tearing the neat wrappings off of the book and holding it up to read the title. "The Art of War?"

He looked up at Hermione, who was beaming excitedly.

"Who's Sun Tazoo?"

"Sun _Tzu_ was a Muggle. He wrote this book and it's all about strategy and tactics and—well, that's your forte, is it not?"

Ron smiled gratefully, and Hermione let out a breath she had been holding, and they hugged.

After that was sorted, Harry focused on Ginny's gift. He had bought the bracelet for Ginny long before their current feud began, but still received a scathing glare after she opened it as though he were trying to buy himself back into her good books. Afterwards, Hermione tried to cheer Harry up by pretending to take offense to the jug of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion he had bought her.

Meanwhile, George appeared to be using Christmas to test his prototypes, as he had been dispensing unfamiliar Weasley's Wizard Wheezes items and gauging the reactions of the recipients. Mrs. Weasley was delighted after unwrapping an ornamental display case containing various flavored teas, but became quite austere towards George when the tea she served revealed to have been charmed to sprout a beard of green grass from the chin of anyone who drinks it.

Helinora approached the group cautiously, disturbed a bit by the humans' strange behavior. The previous night, she had been told by a jolly Mr. Weasley to 'don her gay apparel,' subjected to George's rendition of a song about the five House Elves of Christmas, and kissed directly on the lips by a passing Harry Potter for no reason other than that she was standing under a weed hanging from the ceiling.

Ron gripped a small box in his pocket subconsciously as he watched the morning unfold. Nearly all the presents were unwrapped, and soon they would be eating breakfast. 'It's time,' thought Ron, as he whisked Hermione up to his room, and was tailed by George's supportive hooting. He guided her into the room he shared with Harry and closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath.

"Didn't want them all teasing me when I gave you this," Ron explained at her incredulous expression. He then withdrew the small box from his pocket.

"You do realize they'll be teasing us even more now, don't you?" said Hermione, placing her hands on her hips. "You've taken me to your room, alone."

"Oh would you look at that, might as well have a snog while we're up here, they'll think we did anyway—"

"Ron, what's in that box?"

"A gift, obviously. And they call you a genius..." Ron smirked and presented her with the box. It wasn't pretty; it had red-and-white wrappings with a snowflake design that were folded incorrectly and ripped in some places, held together by bunches of Spellotape. Nevertheless, Hermione snatched it with the grace and patience of a hungry chimpanzee and opened it, revealing a small silver locket. She took the locket in her hand and opened it to reveal a photograph of Ron, Harry, and herself in their second year at Hogwarts. They were standing with bright smiles in the Great Hall. She smiled sadly knowing that this picture was taken by Colin Creevey.

"D'you like it? There was one of just us, from fourth year, but I thought you might like this one—" Ron was nearly knocked over by Hermione's pouncing hug. "Yeah, I knew you'd love it."

"I do."

"I thought, y'know—after last Christmas, and the one before—I want to make up for it."

"And yet you gave me a locket," said Hermione into Ron's shoulder.

Ron's eyes grew wide; he hadn't remembered that it was a locket that had terrorized them around Christmas time the year prior, and yet another locket that terrorized him the year before that with the words '_My Sweetheart._' Ron couldn't decide which was worse.

"Would you have preferred a sword?" he asked. "They say I'm the heir, you know, which means I've inherited a rather good one."

"I'd really like to be there when you try explaining that to Professor McGonagall." Hermione smirked stood on her toes to meet Ron's lips. They grasped each other tightly and lost themselves in a kiss full of vigor borne of weeks of polite resisting for Harry and Ginny's sake. With much reluctance, Ron broke away after a minute or two to find that they had ended up against a wall.

"We'd better go down," said Hermione. "Don't want to miss breakfast."

Hermione placed her new locket around her neck and descended the stairs alongside Ron. Halfway down the zig-zagging staircase, they spotted George standing outside Ginny's room, frozen with shock. There appeared to be a blazing row going on within the room between Ginny and Harry. Ron and Hermione hurried to the door and pressed their ears against it, ready to step in should the fray get out of hand. From the sound of the muffled voices, Harry was on the defensive.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Yes, that's become your mantra, hasn't it? Why's she sending you love letters then?"

"This isn't a bloody love letter, and I didn't ask her to send this. I didn't even send her anything!"

"Then why does it say '_thanks for the sweets?_'"

"Oh! I gave her some Every Flavor Beans—but that wasn't personal, I was practically handing them out on the train—"

"I didn't see you handing anything out, you—you... _arse!_ You jabber like a choir girl every time she's near you! Nevermind she's dated half the school!"

"So have you!"

Hermione gasped against the door and Ron looked disgruntled, but George merely shook his head in disappointment, as a loud _*SMACK* _sounded from within the room. Soon, there were rapid footsteps and the eavesdroppers scattered. George hid in the bathroom on the floor below and Ron and Hermione retreated back up the stairs whence they came before Harry marched out of Ginny's room, glasses askew, huffing angrily.

"Poor Harry," whispered Ron, shaking his head; his anger towards Harry had abated, as, by the sound of it, the slap his best mate received was punishment enough.

"_Poor Harry?_" asked Hermione. "What about your sister? You've seen how Harry acts around Cho!"

"How about how you act around Krum?" asked Ron. Hermione recoiled, looking as though she had been slapped as hard as Harry was. "Don't act surprised, you're the same way and you know it."

"If I act a certain _way_ it's because I know it'll be awkward with your infernal jealousy," said Hermione dangerously, her tone telling Ron he was playing with candles by a powder keg. "I've told you, there's nothing, _nothing_ between Viktor and I but friendship, and a very distant one at that."

"Exactly," said Ron, beaming triumphantly. Hermione blinked. "If Harry's done anything wrong, so have you."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but the door swung open and Harry walked briskly into the room, passed Ron and Hermione as if they weren't there, and began pacing by the side of his bed.

"I'm going," said Harry. "Ginny and I are having a... disagreement."

"Going?" asked Ron. "Where?"

"Grimmauld Place, I suppose."

"I don't think that's the answer," said Hermione delicately. "I think you should apologize—"

"I know you wanted some _alone time_, Ron," continued Harry, speaking over her. "But I don't know if I want any with Kreacher. Care to join me?"

"Um." Ron glanced around at Hermione and weighed his options. She stared at him determinedly, but he gave an apologetic shrug and turned back to Harry. "Yeah, I'll go."

Hermione's eyes narrowed severely and she crossed her arms, but made no attempt to stop Harry from leaving.

"Sorry," said Ron at the doorway after Harry had left.

"Don't be," said Hermione curtly. "I'm glad he wants your company. He usually pushes his friends away when he's angry."

"All right then." Ron swept in to peck her lips, but she turned her head so that he made contact with her cheek instead.

Pouting, and hoping the source of Hermione's coldness was Harry's sleight on Kreacher, Ron exited the room and found Harry waiting for him at the top of the staircase. On their way down the stairs, Ron and Harry agreed it would be easier to keep their school trunks at the Burrow and retrieve them before going back to Hogwarts. They strode past the Weasley family as it conversed in yuletide merriment, and Harry had tunnel vision, seeing only the exit, but Ron could notice George's eyes fixing him with a scornful leer.

* * *

"FILTH! HALF-BLOODS AND SWINE!"

"_Ron!_" groaned Harry.

"Sorry!" Ron got to his feet, brushing himself off, and returned an umbrella stand that was crafted from a hollowed troll's leg to an upright position.

"BLOOD TRAITORS! CREATURES OF DIRT!"

"SHUT UP!" shouted Harry at the screaming portrait of Mrs. Black. He yanked the curtains shut over her face and marched off to the kitchen.

Ron followed Harry through the hallway of black wood and tattered wallpaper. There were more serpents carved into the woodwork and splayed about the house than on a Medusa's head, and there was a mild pungent stench of poison coming from a locked closet by the stairs. When Ron reached the kitchen, he found that Harry had summoned Kreacher and asked him to prepare breakfast. Kreacher seemed to recognize Harry's foul mood and began cooking eggs and bacon at once.

"Greetings, Master Ronald," said Kreacher as Ron sat at the kitchen table next to Harry. "_Must make more eggs..._" he then mumbled.

As Kreacher's opinion of Harry and his friends changed, so did the nature of his mumbling. He began to voice neutral thoughts and narrate his actions. There was a long silence, where only the sizzling of bacon in a pan above the fire could be heard, then Kreacher came trotting to the table, Regulus Black's fake locket bobbing around at his chest. He placed dishes of eggs and bacon in front of Harry and Ron, and Harry frowned.

"What about yours?" he asked.

"Master Harry Potter must not worry for old Kreacher—Kreacher has eaten breakfast this morning," replied Kreacher, pushing Harry's plate closer. "It is okay, Master Harry. _Kreacher is here..._"

Harry smiled to Kreacher, revealing a mouthful of eggs. Ron smiled as well, hoping Harry had cheered up by now.

"Kreacher, I have some news, both good and bad," said Harry. "The bad news is that this house is going to start looking a lot more like Sirius's room."

Kreacher's eyelids fidgeted sadly.

"The good news is it's Christmas, and I'll be moving most of the daggers and serpents and elf heads and all that other stuff you love into your new room."

"New r-room, sir?"

"Yes, that's your present from me."

"Th-thank you, Master Harry Potter! It is a glorious day for Kreacher, yes... yes, we shall honor the House of Gryffindor, the House of Master Sirius and Master Harry..."

Ron shifted uncomfortably as he watched Kreacher mumble gleefully to himself, then grabbed a piece of bacon and handed it to Kreacher, who took it with a quizzical stare.

"Happy Christmas," he said. Harry snorted.

"Thank you," said Kreacher dully. He then disappeared with a _*crack*_ and there were rummaging noises from the floor above; Kreacher had begun the redecoration.

"So, mate," said Ron after finishing up his eggs. "You _do_ act a bit flustered around Cho—don't deny it—and why is that, if you've got my darling sister?"

"Ron, there's more to it than I think you realize," said Harry, on the defensive for the second time today at Ron's accusatory tone. "Cedric died, and that was a lot to take in, and I don't know if she wanted to be close to me to find out more about it—I always fancied her, you know that—and when I was with her, it seemed like she had a screw loose. I don't want to say something completely innocent and somehow offend her."

"You're scared of her?" asked Ron with an amused smirk.

"You weren't there at Madame Puddifoot's. She'll have a go at you over something completely random. I don't even know why she still wants anything to do with me after it all."

"Maybe she's grown up a bit."

"What about Ginny?"

"What about her?"

"You're her brother! How do I—er—get back on the horse, as the Muggles say?"

"Well, Hermione said—wait, Ginny's Patronus is a horse, innit?" Ron scowled.

"That's not what I meant," replied Harry quickly, his cheeks reddening.

"I don't think she'll be happy until you tell Cho off or something. You may not have done anything wrong, and you can say what you want about not having done, but Cho's still flirting with you."

"That's absurd though!"

"Do it anyway. I have to live with Hermione going on about _Viktor._ Oh,_ 'Viktor'_ this and _'Viktor'_ that. _'Viktor'_ has a first name, and it's _'Viktor.'_"

Harry raised his eyebrows, and Ron started fiddling with a crack in the table idly.

"I hope she's still making the Wolfsbane," Ron sighed.

"Come on, let's help Kreacher fix this place up."

Harry and Ron soon found out that, when it came to cleaning number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Kreacher was worth more than the entire Order of the Phoenix when he actually made an effort. The walls, previously old and oily, were now a warmer cardinal and gold. Kreacher had eagerly collected every item of Dark magic in the house and taken it to the room that was now his, leaving Harry and Ron with a lot of blank space.

Kreacher's mysterious House Elf magic came in useful when the time came to remove the portrait of Mrs. Black. Where humans were unable to strip it from the wall due to its Permanent Sticking Charm, Kreacher simply Disapparated with it, presumably to his room. If Harry and Ron had any inclination to enter Kreacher's room before the portrait was placed there, it had gone.

Without much to work with, Harry asked Kreacher to take from Sirius's room. The room separating the kitchen from the foyer, which served as their living room, now featured Sirius's posters of scantily clad Muggle models in provocative poses, as well as a great big Gryffindor banner covering one of the walls.

"If Hermione asks, this was your idea," said Ron as he placed a Permanent Sticking Charm on his favorite of Sirius's posters and placed it on the wall beside him.

Harry and Ron were admiring the poster when there was a crash down the hall from the front door swinging open, then a terrified yelp. Harry and Ron looked at each other for a second, then dashed down the hallway, wands drawn.

"INFERI! He's back from the grave!" cried a deep voice.

"Calm down, it's just a protective jinx! Tell him you didn't kill him!"

"I didn' kill yeh! Go on!"

Harry and Ron rounded the corner just in time to see the dust figure of Albus Dumbledore burst into a cloud of smoke. In the middle of the hallway, a massive man was waving what looked like two large trays around to clear the fog; but as he did, the trays screamed and wailed in fright.

"Careful!" cried a familiar voice.

When the smoke cleared, Harry noticed that they weren't trays at all, but framed portraits. Hagrid stepped towards them, carrying a portrait in each hand and shaking his head to whip dust off of his bushy beard.

"All righ', Harry? Ron? Didn' scare yeh did I?"

"A bit," said Ron, his eyes on the portraits. "What are those?"

"Portraits. Where d'yeh want 'em?"

"Er—the living room is fine," said Harry, nonplussed. "Why've you brought portraits?"

"Yeh'll see. Blimey, that protective charm gave me a right scare. Hate seein' him like that."

"We've tried to take it down, but we can't figure out how," explained Ron. "Might even ask Bill to take a look at it."

Harry and Ron followed Hagrid through the hall to the living room, and realized why Hagrid rarely came to number twelve: his booming footsteps would awake Mrs. Black's shrieks from a mile away. Sure enough, Mrs. Black's voice sounded faintly from Kreacher's room, spewing slurs at the top of her painted lungs.

"Woah," said Hagrid, looking around at the Muggle posters. "Take it Hermione n' Ginny aren't here fer this..."

Ron whistled, and Harry grinned spitefully.

"Oh, n' thanks fer the antivenom potions, Harry. Right thoughtful a'you. I sent yer gift ter the Burrow and they owled me n' said yeh'd gone here."

"Cheers," said Harry. "Now who's in those portraits?"

"Oh, yeah, look," replied Hagrid, lifting them up. "Yer sure ter like this."

With a flick of his pink umbrella, the portraits were stuck to free spaces on the wall. In one portrait, the frazzled-looking Phineas Nigellus Black was patting down his hair, brushing dust off of his clothes, and walking out of sight, presumably to his other portrait, while muttering a few rather unkind words about Hagrid. In the other frame, Harry saw the shoulder-length black hair, devilish grin and handsome features of his godfather, Sirius Black, who was looking around the room with a growing smile.

"I _love_ what you've done with the place," said Sirius. "Hello, Harry—and Ron—it's good to see you two again!"

"Sirius!" shouted Harry after he overcame his shock. "You're—but you didn't die defending Hogwarts!"

"In a way, I did," said Sirius. "I was painted the old-fashioned way. Dumbledore hired a magical artist after my death. It's a terrible experience, being painted."

"Where have you been?"

"The cave where we met up during the Triwizard Tournament. They call it Grawp's cave now."

"I'd best be off," said Hagrid. "Hogwarts needs its gamekeeper, 'specially 'round Christmastime."

"Take care, Hagrid."

Hagrid left a basket of his 'famous' rock cakes by the kitchen and walked off out the front door.

"Just what _have_ you done to my family's house!" cried Phineas when he returned to his portrait, his eyes now darting from one Muggle poster to the next. "Where are the Black family possessions?"

"They're in Kreacher's room," said Ron.

"_You gave the House-Elf his own room?_" hissed Phineas, as if speaking of a scandal. "It's a besmirchment! It's a disgrace! IT JUST ISN'T DONE!"

"Calm down, Phineas," said Sirius. "Times do change—but why _are_ you giving that little ray of sunshine his own room?"

"We found out that Regulus betrayed Voldemort before he died," said Harry. Sirius's eyes widened. "We asked Kreacher about it. He's a changed elf."

"Well I'll be... could you tell me about it?"

"Of course." Harry sat in front of Sirius's portrait. "Wish you could have been there..."

Ron smiled and walked off to give them some time alone. He busied himself by practicing Patronus communication, in hopes that he could hone his skills enough in time to contact Hermione before the end of Christmas break, as he'd left Pigwidgeon back at The Burrow.

For the rest of the day, Ron and Harry lounged in the living room with Sirius and Phineas. Kreacher no longer walked, but skipped merrily, and, by his muttering, Harry and Ron knew he was the happiest he had ever been.

"So _then_ the little son of a Blast-Ended Skrewt decides to strip to his knickers and hop into the frozen pond!" Ron was chortling.

Sirius was doubled over in laughter, and Harry was shaking his head with narrowed eyes. After telling the tale of the Horcrux hunt, Harry asked Sirius for advice regarding his fight with Ginny.

"Well, have you considered her feelings?" Sirius asked. "Harry, jealousy is powerful and irrational. It's just not something that's going to go away if you explain things to her logically. But, on the other side of the Sickle, as long as she's jealous, she's yours."

"Isn't that a bit cruel?" asked Harry. Sirius shrugged.

"Might help if you just sever all ties with the other girl," said Sirius. Ron nodded triumphantly, but narrowed his eyes as Sirius continued, "Or you could try to have both..."


	12. Black Diplomacy

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

Ron rubbed his groggy eyes as he stepped out of bed and walked down the staircase of the new number twelve, Grimmauld Place, observing with amazement how much Kreacher was able to change around the house. The living room had become not only inhabitable, but likeable; its cardinal wallpaper, soft red armchairs, and other eye candy had much more warmth than rest of the old dreary house. Harry was sipping tea from a silver goblet, and Ron noticed that its decorative serpentine handle had been magicked off.

"Morning, Ron," said Harry. Ron grunted. "I was just contemplating replacing the door-knocker with a lion's head holding a dead snake in its mouth. How's that?"

"Sounds good, mate," said Ron absentmindedly, stretching his arms until his elbows cracked. "Hello, Sirius."

"Good morning, Ron," said Sirius. He then turned to Harry and said, "You know, I'm beginning to regret using Muggle posters. As a portrait, I can't enter Muggle posters..."

Ron grinned, walked past a sniggering Harry towards the kitchen, and plopped down on a kitchen chair. He rested his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, feeling sapped of energy and tenderness in all of his senses; his transformation was near. A plate of pink strips of steak was immediately thrust onto the table before him by a lively Kreacher, who then began washing dishes in his white apron and mushroom-shaped chef's hat. Ron marveled at Kreacher's thoughtfulness.

"Good timing," said Ron, feeling more awake with each bite he took.

"Think nothing of it, Master Ronald, yes... _Ronald enjoys his meat raw on the eve of the moon..._"

After finishing his steak and depositing his dish in the sink, Ron joined Harry and Sirius in the living room. Harry was attempting to transfigure the house's ordinary door-knocker into the head of a lion with little success. Ron had just sat on the couch and propped his feet up on a black coffee table when a flash of white light swept through the room. A luminous silver otter emerged from the light, swimming in mid-air, inspecting the changes Harry and Ron had made to the room.

"It was Harry's idea!" said Ron automatically.

"What on earth is this, Ronald?" spoke the otter in Hermione's voice, having discovered the Muggle posters. "This one isn't even clothed!"

"Blame Harry!"

Sirius was laughing riotously in his portrait, while Harry was chuckling similarly on the couch. Ron suspected if Sirius were there in the flesh, he would have given Harry a high five. Grumbling, Ron turned to the otter.

"What do you want anyway, Hermione?"

"Don't you take that tone with me, you pervert!"

Ron felt very silly being scolded by a floating white otter.

"It's just, I think you should come back," said Hermione's Patronus. "Hang on—is that—Sirius! You have a portrait!"

"Of course," said the painted Sirius Black. "The world needs my beautiful face, after all."

"That's wonderful!" gasped Hermione, and Sirius smiled. Hermione's otter looked around the room once more, spotting the new wallpaper and Gryffindor banner. "So, Ron, you whinge to no end when I ask you to help decorate a simple Christmas tree, but you'll go and do a whole room for Harry when you don't have to?"

"He might not gripe at all if you use ornaments that are a bit more like that," said Sirius from his portrait, pointing to one of the Muggle posters.

"It's not that," said Ron. "Harry _did_ need it. It was far too depressing the way it was before."

"Honestly," tutted the otter. "Won't you two come back? Ginny won't admit it, but she feels bad about how she's acted. It's important to communicate, isn't it, Ron?"

"Er, yeah," said Ron. "Communication and honesty are key."

Sirius snorted.

"Fine, I'll come back," said Harry circumspectly. "Just give me a moment."

The otter vanished with one last scowl towards Ron. Harry turned to Sirius.

"Is this good?"

"Very good," said Sirius. "Be sure to tell her you missed her, but don't say you're sorry, of course."

"Why not?" asked Ron. Sirius shook his head with a pitying look.

"Because, if you say you're sorry, she'll start thinking something along the lines of 'yeah, you'd better be sorry.' You'll lose all control and be subject to endless ribbing and scolding in the future. This incident will have been remembered as a problem caused solely by you."

"That's..." said Ron, looking up to the ceiling as if attempting to look into his own mind for the right words. "It's brilliant!"

Harry looked skeptical. "I'm not trying to be some sort of womanizer, Sirius."

"Nor have I ever," replied Sirius with a smile.

"You suggested I try to have both!"

"I was just making you aware of your options."

"I've got a question of my own, Sirius," said Ron, his cheeks turning red. "How do you get a girl to, y'know..."

"What?"

"Well if you've never... y'know, if she's never... but if you were in a war and it seems silly that you haven't..."

"I think I've figured out what you mean," said Sirius with amusement. "Are you sure she's never..."

"She'd better have never!"

"Don't be stupid," said Harry. "You've got more experience than her, mate."

"Well that's comforting, as I've none, but how do I go about... I mean..."

"If you can't talk about it, Ron, how are you going to do it?" asked Sirius.

"Without conversation," Ron replied.

* * *

"Harry!" called Arthur from behind The Burrow. He was using the Locomotor Charm to levitate a massive wrapped Christmas gift to the front yard. "Ron!"

"Blimey, who's that for?" asked Ron, his eyes glued to the shiny red and green wrappings of the gift that was almost as large as he was.

"Harry," said Arthur. "You left before I could give this to you!"

Harry wasn't sure what to make of it; he supposed Ginny had not told her parents about his little commentary on her social life at Hogwarts if he was still to be the recipient of such an extravagant gift. On the other hand, it could contain a caged monster meant to attack Harry as revenge.

"_Relashio!_" said Harry, whipping his wand through the air.

The wrappings dispersed, revealing a massive jet-black motorcycle with pipes of polished chrome and leather seats. Harry heard a surprised squeak to his side, and looked to see Ron's eyes and grin just as wide as his own. Harry turned to the smiling Arthur and whipped his arms around him, grasping him in a tight hug.

"Thanks, Arthur! Does it still fly?"

"Of course, it's—oh no—quickly, stand in front of it!" Arthur shifted in front of the bike, but it was too late. Molly Weasley was marching down from the Burrow's front door in a flour-stained apron.

"Is that what you've been working on these past months?" she asked dangerously. Arthur shook his head quickly. "Kept it in that charmed crawlspace under the shed so I wouldn't see it, didn't you?"

"No, of course not, Mollywobble—"

"Don't you '_Mollywobbles_' me, Arthur. I am absolutely _OUTRAGED_ that you would experiment with this—this Muggle contraption and hand it off to poor young Harry here for him to break his neck!"

"But—"

"Why don't you go back into the house, finish cooking dinner and think, just once, about the consequences of your _bloody_ actions?"

Molly removed her apron and tossed it at her husband so that it wrapped itself around his face by the force of the throw, then turned to Harry.

"Lovely to see you again, dear. There are fresh biscuits in the pantry from this morning."

She smiled and headed back through the front door, past Ginny and Hermione, who had come out to investigate the commotion. Arthur followed, white-faced from the flour sticking to his sweaty forehead. Ron jogged over to Hermione, arms fully outstretched, aiming to scoop her up in a tight hug, but faltered as her only reaction was to cross her arms and give him a McGonagall-strength glare.

"Hey, Hermione," said Ron, awkwardly passing off his hug attempt as a movement to scratch the back of his neck. "Missed you."

"I'm not so sure of that. I'm sure you kept yourself _entertained_ just fine on your own."

"Not really. I was actually forced to read a book—for _entertainment_—as you can see I'm just miserable without you," said Ron as Harry caught up to them, wheeling Sirius's motorcycle by his side.

"_Ooh, _with smooth talk like that I can only guess which book he read," said Ginny slyly.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"Quidditch stuff," said Ron quickly. "There's a whole section in one of my books about memorable quotes in—er—Quidditch cup speeches..."

"Can I borrow it?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

"I've misplaced it. Gone forever, I'm afraid."

"You'll have to buy another," said Ginny. "Luckily I remember the title. It was 'Twelve Ways to Charm—'"

"A crawlspace," Ron blurted. "Borrowed it from my dad," he explained.

* * *

By the end of Christmas Break, Harry was feeling optimistic. Sirius's advice on what to tell Ginny appeared to have been effective, and, slowly but surely, he was making progress with her. He had even got her to agree to a ride on his new flying motorbike at midnight. Meanwhile, Ron only managed to dig himself in deeper with Hermione.

"She wasn't even pissed off at me in the first place!" whined Ron as they made their way through Hogsmeade Station towards the Thestral-driven coaches. "This is all your fault!"

"I didn't tell you to suggest that Hermione pose for a poster of her own so you have 'something to look at.'"

Neville was laughing openly at this point with Luna cackling beside him. They had arrived on the train together. Ron fought the urge to hex the both of them into Skrewt food. Ginny and Hermione had stayed behind to retrieve the pets from the train.

"I thought it was a good idea, anyway."

"Ron, we've got to hurry!" said an approaching Hermione, Crookshanks following at her feet. She was also grasping the rattling cage of Pigwidgeon, who was zooming about like a feathered bludger. Ginny came up alongside her carrying Trevor the toad.

The sun had set and the last of its light faded over the horizon in a pink glow. The petals of Ron's starflower were curled severely, indicating the night of the full moon. When the reptilian Thestrals dragged their coach to the front gates of Hogwarts, the tiny Professor Flitwick was waiting to usher Ron to the Whomping Willow. Hermione gave Ron a peck on the cheek, and Ginny's briskness melted with worry as Ron assured her he would be all right.

Harry decided to see Ron to the Whomping Willow; Ron would appreciate the gesture, and, hopefully, so would Ginny. He joined Ron and Professor Flitwick in their march through the driving snow. Little white specks were swirling through the air in the blizzard and Flitwick looked as if he could be swept away by the wind at any moment.

"Oh, no..." rasped Ron, staring at the edge of the forest as they neared the Whomping Willow. "Spiders... spiders again!"

"In here, Mr. Weasley!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, pointing to the tunnel under the temporarily frozen tree's base.

"No, not spiders... that can't be right..." Ron stopped at the trunk, still staring out into the forest, then shook his head and crawled through the passageway to the Shrieking Shack, quickly disappearing into the darkness.

Harry looked towards the forest, tracing the direction of Ron's gaze, but saw nothing. He followed Professor Flitwick back to the Covered Bridge where a crowd of black-robed witches and wizards about Harry's age was gathered, talking and laughing. Flitwick passed through the group and they followed him, but one stayed behind, blocking Harry from entering the bridge.

"Hello, Harry," said Cho Chang. Harry saw her smile from under the hood of her cloak.

"Oh, hey, Cho," said Harry, shifting his feet and glancing around. "How are you?"

"Fine. Did you get my letter? I've just come from the Owlery."

"Yeah, I did," said Harry in a scathing tone, but Cho didn't notice.

"Do you want to go with me to Hogsmeade on your next visit? I've got some time off, and I think we could talk about things—everything—"

"Okay," said Harry, but before he could say 'okay, listen, Cho,' a dark figure scuttling behind her caught his eye.

It was a quadrupedal shadow above the snow, standing as tall as Harry's waist, with nothing but its shining brown eyes visible in the light of the full moon. Harry squinted to distinguish its features, and it lunged at him; he quickly wheeled around and sprinted across the Covered Bridge to draw the creature away from Cho. Harry withdrew his wand and flicked it behind himself, sending bright red curses at his pursuer, hearing only his own incantations and the figure's claws clicking against the wood of the bridge.

When he reached the castle, Harry could no longer hear the creature following him. Hoping desperately that Cho had had the sense to take the safest route down to Hagrid's instead of taking the unidentified creature on by herself, Harry dashed up the shifting grand staircase towards the Gryffindor common room.

"Bowtruckle!" said Harry between heavy breaths once he reached the portrait hole.

"The password has changed," said the Fat Lady. "Perhaps if you'd have been here on time, you'd know that."

"Just let me in!"

"That isn't the password either."

"Why do you have to be so aggravating! You know me!"

"Guess again."

"Need help, Harry?" asked a familiar voice.

Harry turned around to see Parvati Patil standing beside Lavender Brown. Harry nodded and stepped aside.

"Weasley is our king," said Parvati confidently. Lavender giggled for some stupid reason.

"Why, yes," said the Fat Lady, opening herself to the Gryffindor common room. Harry rushed inside, budging Parvati out of the way.

"Thanks!" he called over his shoulder.

Harry hurried towards the Girls Dormitory and scaled the stairs quickly before they could turn into a slide. He had his hand on the doorknob when an invisible force ejected his body from the doorway, slamming him into the opposite wall. He then flopped forward onto the staircase and slid down the slide face-down.

"Bugger," breathed Harry into the cold stone floor. He was brought to his feet by the help of Seamus Finnegan and Dennis Creevey.

"Not a good idea," said Seamus. "The twins couldn't even get in there."

"We went farther than any man in entering the Girls' Dormitories of Hogwarts!" announced Fred from his portrait in a deep tone. Little Con Castle dropped his books in fright.

"What's going on?" asked Hermione as she and Ginny slid down the temporarily smooth staircase of the Girls Dormitory.

"We need to talk," said Harry.

Harry practically dragged the girls up to the Boys Dormitory and asked Dean Thomas to give them some privacy. Dean waggled his eyebrows and winked at Harry before leaving, eliciting a scowl from Hermione. Neville peeked out from behind the curtains of his four-poster bed.

"Should I go too?" he asked.

"No, you're fine," said Harry. He jogged over to his school trunk and withdrew the Marauder's Map. He tapped the tip of his wand on the map, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Splotches of ink appeared on the parchment and morphed to form an impeccable map of Hogwarts. Small dots on the map indicated the whereabouts of everyone in the school.

"Ron's loose on the grounds," said Harry. The girls gasped and Neville shot up from his bed to take a look at the map over Harry's shoulder.

The four students combed the map thoroughly but could not locate any trace of a blip labeled 'Ron Weasley.'

"But I saw him," said Harry in disbelief. "I saw something, at least. It was by the Stone Circle. I was talking to Cho and it attacked me. It walked on four legs like a dog and had brown eyes."

"Ron has blue eyes," said Neville. "Could it have been Fang?"

"Right!" Harry sighed in relief. "It wasn't Ron—of course it wasn't, it wasn't big enough. It wasn't Fang either; Fang wouldn't chase me over the Covered Bridge."

"How did you outrun it?"

"Hit it with a curse, I suppose."

"I'll alert the Headmistress," said Hermione, before disappearing down the staircase.

"I'll go back to sleep," said Neville, before disappearing behind the curtains of his four-poster bed.

There were a few moments of silence between Harry and Ginny. Soon, Neville's rattling snores could be heard.

"I just ran into her. I didn't go looking for her," said Harry. Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"I didn't say anything." Ginny turned and walked out, shutting the big wooden door with slightly more force than necessary.

After a moment, the door opened again and Dean entered with Seamus behind him. He patted Harry on the shoulder.

"Not all girls are into that sort of thing," he said.

Harry growled and curled up in his bed, drifting off to sleep amidst the laughter of Dean and Seamus.


	13. Neville's Loony Christmas

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

The Great Hall was bright with beams of sunlight shining down from its high windows and the morning sky visible through the enchanted ceiling past a swarm of unlit candles. Contributing to the Great Hall's dazzle were the vibrant and translucent House ghosts floating above the staff table huddled in quiet discussion, casting shining reflections on the lustrous floor.

Harry Potter sat across from Hermione Granger, sorting his regular post from his fanmail and eating a plate of eggs and sausage. Hermione was immersed in her copy of The Daily Prophet, which was reporting the removal of the Dementors from Azkaban.

"I've never seen so many Patronuses in one place," remarked Hermione before taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "Apparently, the Dementors weren't too happy about being sacked."

"Are Dementors ever happy?" asked Harry, reading yet another anonymous marriage proposal from a fan.

"Look at this one. 'Marry me or I'll hate you.' Merlin, she's playing hardball."

Hermione laughed lightly, inspecting the letter herself. Harry caught sight of a red head of hair by the entrance to the Great Hall when Ron entered and started a determined march towards Hermione. Harry stared intently, recalling Ron's declaration that he'd done something to get back in her good books and, by his estimation, he'd have her posing for a poster by the end of the day.

Ron arrived at the table and gulped, his lips pursed together nervously. He held out both hands and showered slips of parchment over the Gryffindor table in front of Hermione. She grabbed one of the small rectangular slips that had fallen in her lap and inspected it.

"It's a paystub," observed Hermione, her brows tensed in confusion.

"Read the names," said Ron. He promptly turned his back on her and walked out of the Great Hall.

"_Winky..._" Hermione widened her eyes and hungrily grabbed another scrap of parchment. "_Varney ... Baxter ... Screech ... Kreacher..._"

"Just be sure to make it a Muggle poster," said Harry, grinning. "Don't want Sirius popping his head in."

"What?" asked Hermione distractedly.

"Nothing."

Hermione stood up, excused herself and dashed out of the Great Hall, taking a left on her path to Gryffindor Common Room. She was watched by a smiling Harry, who began to help himself to Hermione's food after he'd finished his own.

* * *

"Dobby the House-Elf."

The three-headed canine golem comprised of dirt and grime, which Ginny had nicknamed 'Ol' Dusty,' exploded into a cloud of dust that swept across the floors and crept up the walls of the Trapdoor Room in the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side. The six leaders of Dumbledore's Army ushered its members through the trapdoor that lead to the Chess Room.

"Four knuts a month," said Ron proudly. "McGonagall wanted to offer them more but they threatened to quit."

"It's a fantastic start!" said Hermione, gripping his arm. "Isn't it great, Harry?"

"Yes, Ron's _so_ amazing," said Harry. "And yet he walks among us mere mortals!"

"Consider it a blessing," said Ron. There was much sniggering from the crowd of students behind them.

Ginny's eyes frequently shifted to Hermione and Ron with a troubled look. Harry, whose eyes were trained to catch something so minute and elusive as the Golden Snitch, noticed this immediately. When he made eye contact with her, she looked down at the dimly lit stone floor underneath her. Harry moved closer so that he was walking beside her and gripped her hand in his own, determined not to let her pull it away. She didn't try.

"How'd you convince her anyway?" asked Neville. "Didn't Hermione already try?"

"Hermione tried before we stopped Voldemort," said Ron. "McGonagall loves this school, so I thought it might sway her."

They reached the vast and cubical Chess Room, with its brown torchlit stone walls and ghostly white glow emanating from the raised checkered platform at the room's center. Students lined up beside the chessboard while the six leaders of Dumbledore's Army climbed onto it. Neville fetched the stand with the blackboard and pictures of Cedric Diggory and the Order of the Phoenix and placed it on a corner of the chessboard. A single word was written on the board in chalk: _Gadgets._

"Hello all," said Harry. "Gadgets. A wizard's tools."

"What, like James Bond?" asked Dean Thomas. Several Muggleborns giggled.

"In a way, yes," said Harry. He heard Hermione whispering an explanation to Ron and Ginny. "Gadgets will be your-"

_*BANG*_

There was an explosion in the corner of the room, behind the students, and the eyes of every student darted towards the source of the blast. Distracted, the students were unable to protect themselves from the curses that flew from atop the chessboard. Before the group could register what was going on, they'd all found themselves hanging upside down by their ankles as if supported by invisible hooks.

"OI! TRYIN' TO SLEEP 'ERE!" shouted the portrait of the jagged-toothed teenager with spiky hair. "Hah! Look at you dunderheads!"

"How, I ask you, does a group of six wizards and witches incapacitate a group of thirty or forty?" asked Harry. "Ginny?"

"With this," said Ginny, drawing a small object from her pocket.

It was a small black acorn-shaped wind-up toy with little ducklike legs and a winder protruding from its back. Ginny gave a toothy smile and held the toy up, waving a hand under it, as if to present it in an auction. Harry grinned.

"Yes, Ginny here is modeling the stylish Decoy Detonator designed by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It will create a distraction anywhere you like; just wind it up and send it on its way."

"That's fantastic," said Dean, crossing his arms. "Can you let us down now?"

"Oh!" Harry blushed. "Right, yes, well, _Liberacorpus!_"

After a few flicks of the wand and utterances of the countercurse, the members of Dumbledore's Army were back on their feet, though a little red in the face.

"What's that?" asked a young third-year student, pointing at a single potted flower with thin yellow petals.

"That's a Bewitch-Me-Not," said Neville. "Rub the pollen on yourself and it resists minor spells."

"Cool!"

The lesson continued, with demonstrations of various gizmos. Certain objects, like the secrecy sensors and sneakoscopes, could not be demonstrated. Ron suggested they go find the Battle-Axe Bandits if they wanted to see the sneakoscopes go off. Ron had taken the lesson over, and was guiding the younger students through the various gadgets, plugging Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as much as he possibly could.

"That's a Foe Glass," said Ron, walking behind the group as they stared at an oval-shaped mirror. "See the shadows? Those are your enemies. When you can see the whites of their eyes, that means they're..."

Ron leaned in behind a small fourth-year boy's shoulder. "RIGHT BEHIND YOU!"

The boy leapt several feet into the air, and landed on his rear against the giant chessboard. He stood up and glanced around at his chuckling peers, looking awfully confused. Ron continued, struggling to maintain his composure through his sniggering.

"I'm not even going to tell you what's in Hermione's bag. You wouldn't believe me if I did."

"Moving right along," said Hermione, narrowing her eyes at Ron and the sniggering Harry beside her. "It's important not to forget that some of the best tools against the Dark Arts are potions. You'll all be making the Wiggenweld Potion today, which offers general protection against the Dark Arts and can be used to wake people from the effects of the Draught of the Living Death."

There was a collective groan among the students as they withdrew their cauldrons from their bags and got to work making the Wiggenweld Potion. Seamus' concoction exploded within two minutes of the procedure, but a few of his classmates had better luck. Luna dipped her index finger into Dennis Creevey's lilac-colored creation and tasted it.

"It's very good," she said.

Neville imitated Luna, then nodded, giving the potion a thoughtful look. "Now that's good Wiggenweld."

"You know, you can usually tell by the color," said Hermione, giving Luna an odd look. Luna smiled.

"Daddy says that skepticism is the mark of an insecure person's desperate desire to remain in control."

"Yeah but your dad's a nutter!" shouted the portrait of the spiky-haired teen.

* * *

"One of our best lessons yet," declared Harry as they climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room, which politely stayed put.

"I don't know," said Ron. "I liked when we did the Infernums and Poseidums."

"You know we shouldn't have done that," said Hermione, stopping before the portrait of the Fat Lady. "It was rather dangerous."

"That was nothing," scoffed Ron. He grinned at the sight of the Fat Lady and turned to Harry, Ginny and Hermione. "Well? Say it."

"Weasley is our king," mumbled Hermione.

"Too right you are," said the Fat Lady. She moved aside to reveal the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Harry!" said Neville. He got up from his game of Exploding Snap and approached the quartet, carrying a green book. "Look!"

Harry took the book and inspected the cover, and it read:

* * *

_Harry Potter and the Three-Headed Dog_

_

* * *

_

"Missed the point a bit, hasn't she?" said Ron, taking the book and inspecting the back. He read the passage aloud.

"_Join in the adventures of the Chosen One, the Heir of Gryffindor and the Mudblood Princess,_" read Ron, looking as if he'd just sucked on a lemon. "What the hell is she on about?"

"The Mudblood Princess!" shrieked Fred from his portrait, doubled over against his own portrait frame in laughter. Hermione was shaking her head with an amused smile.

"_As they face the dreaded Troll-Whisperer, Quirinus Quirrell, the dark Beastmaster of Hogwarts, half-giant Hagrid, and the sinister Professor Snape,_" Ron continued. "What a load of waffle."

Ron chucked the book onto an armchair and glanced at Harry, who nodded back to him furtively. They both placed an arm around Neville and dragged him towards the staircase to the Boys' Dormitory.

"Dean! Seamus! Man-meeting!" called Ron. Ginny and Hermione could be heard muttering something along the lines of '_boys._'

After guiding Neville to the Boys' Dormitory and throwing him onto his bed, where he crossed his arms grumpily and sighed, Harry and Ron locked the door to the Boys' Dormitory behind Dean and Seamus and cast an Imperturbable Charm for good measure. Neville was determinedly remaining quiet, having shut the curtains over his four-poster bed.

"Go on," said Harry, opening the curtains. "How'd it go?"

"Why should I have to tell you?"

"We're trying to help you, mate," said Ron.

"It went okay."

"Just okay?" asked Dean. "Give us details, man!"

"We didn't ... I mean, we aren't officially, well, there was no progress in the way of ... Romance." Neville looked like a sullen tomato at this point.

"Romance? Who said anything about romance?" said Seamus. "Did you feak her or what?"

Dean rapped Seamus on the shoulder, then turned to Neville. "So, you didn't even try?"

"I tried!" urged Neville. "That is, I tried to try..."

"Did you show her all them flowers?" asked Ron.

"Yeah. She said they were nice, and told me to watch out for Spiralbeaked something-or-others." Harry and Ron shared a bewildered look.

"This might be more difficult than we realized," said Harry. "How in Merlin's boots are you supposed to transition from that into asking a girl out?"

"Look, when I was with Ginny," began Dean, but Harry's head whipped around to look at him, and he faltered. "Nothing happened at all. Nevermind."

"How'd you get on with Cho Chang?" asked Seamus. Harry shrugged.

"She wanted to get close to me because I was there when Cedric died, I think," said Harry. "Cho's not the best example. Luna's slightly more stable."

"How about Lavender?" asked Dean to Ron.

"I won at Quidditch."

"That's why we should be practicing double!" said Harry in a chipper tone. The members of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team groaned. "Fine, back to Neville's dilemma."

"What about you and Hermione?" asked Neville, looking at Ron.

"I said we should free the House-Elves and she sort of attacked me." The boys chuckled, except for Harry, who widened his eyes.

"That's it! Take an interest in the stuff she likes!" said Harry.

"Yeah, only the stuff she likes doesn't exist," said Ron.

"Maybe it's like the portal to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. You have to _believe_ that it's there..." Harry reached for the moon.

"The portal _is_ there, though!" said Dean. "Crumple-Horned Snorkacks aren't!"

There was a quiet meow from across the room. Crookshanks, Hermione's big ginger cat, was perched at the window, staring out at the clear night sky. A small gray owl zoomed through the window past the large cat and began flying about the room energetically like an enraged wasp. After a while, Crookshanks made an agile leap towards the owl and batted it out of the air with a paw.

"He'd make a fair keeper," observed Dean.

Ron lifted the note and tossed it out the window without opening it. "George," he explained.

"Okay, Neville, so," Harry began, but he soon noticed that Neville had left the Boys' Dormitory. He glanced around at his fellow Gryffindors and received a few shrugs.

* * *

"She's still a girl, Neville," said Ginny. "Show her you know that. Give her a girly gift."

"Like what?" asked Neville, sitting in an armchair beside Ginny and Hermione.

"Ron got me perfume when everyone else got me books," said Hermione without looking up from her large Arithmancy tome. Neville laughed nervously, as he'd only ever gotten Hermione books.

"Luna made me a drawing of a Snorkack, and it's no Blast-Ended Skrewt," said Ginny. "It's big and cuddly and fuzzy. Maybe she likes things like that?"

"Alright, I'll try that. Thanks!" Neville jogged out of the Common Room.

"What, am I invisible over here?" asked the portrait of Fred, disgruntled. "Who's the expert here?"


	14. The Gauntlet Is Thrown

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

A/N: There's a picture for this chapter. It's at **i32 dot tinypic dot com slash ifbwy8 dot jpg**

* * *

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny stood outside the entrance to the spiral staircase that led to Defense Against the Dark Arts, with their fellow students piling out into the corridors after the class. Once the last of the students had left, and Professor Astadourian had bade them goodbye and stepped down a path to the Great Hall in his penguin-like waddle, all that was left was Neville Longbottom standing in the middle of the hallway, checking his watch.

Before long, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs passed through the corridor on their way to Transfiguration, and Neville plucked a blonde-haired seventh-year from the crowd, pulling her aside. She stared at him expectantly in her dreamy expression, and he twitched nervously.

"I got this for you," said Neville. He handed Luna a stuffed orange ball that looked like the flame of a torch. It had glowing circular yellow eyes with no pupils. "It's a Heliopath doll."

Luna's eyes widened slightly as she inspected the doll. She looked up to Neville, grinning ear-to-ear. "Thank you."

"Just thinking of you," said Neville. Harry and Ron raised their eyebrows, impressed.

"I've got Transfiguration now," said Luna. "Do you think we'll talk tonight, after lessons?"

"Yeah!" said Neville loudly. The four observers recoiled slightly at his yelling. "I mean, yeah, that'd be nice."

"It would be nice. I'm very happy with you at the moment." She smiled and skipped off to join her fellow Ravenclaws on the path to the Transfiguration Courtyard.

"Good..."

"Makes sense, doesn't it?" asked a sneering voice from the end of the corridor. "A girl would have to be barking mad to date you, Longbottom."

Draco Malfoy approached, accompanied by his brutish bodyguard Gregory Goyle and the tiny Slytherin first-year, Sean Albright, who was barely tall enough to reach with Goyle's thigh.

"Piss off, Malfoy," growled Neville. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny stepped up by Neville's side. "Who's this? Your new House-Elf?"

"That's Sean," said Malfoy. "I wouldn't mess with him if I were you. I would if I were a competent duelist, like me, but not if I were you. I've taken him under my wing, you see."

Ron glanced down at the kid with a pitying look, and said, "Get help."

"Not too close, guys," said Malfoy, stepping back from Ron. "The weasel's got Spattergroit."

"He's better off, then," said a voice from behind Malfoy.

Malfoy and his goons turned around to face the voice and parted slightly, revealing the grinning faces and yellow-lined robes of the Battle-Axe Bandits.

"You look like you've already died and come back a ghost," continued Blackboot.

"You punks again," said Malfoy, grimacing. "I'll tell Filch what you were up to."

"Ooh, big man," said Roque. "What were we up to, then?"

"You put up those megaphones for the radio!" squeaked the little Slytherin, Sean Albright. "Olga saw you!"

"_Ogre_ can suck a Manticore sting," said Munky. Sean gasped.

The five leaders of Dumbledore's Army stood quietly, letting the situation unfold. Malfoy whispered something to the tiny first-year; he nodded and drew his wand, which was much too big for him. Malfoy and Goyle quickly drew their wands as well and turned to the five spectators, swishing their wands diagonally, while Sean whipped his wand wildly in the direction of the Bandits.

"_Lumos Solem!_" Malfoy and Goyle chanted in unison, creating beams of blinding yellow light.

Harry and Ron drew their wands quickly, rubbing their dazzled eyes and taking cover behind a large statue of a winged warthog. Hermione quickly cast a Shield Charm while Ginny was firing Stunners in the general direction of Malfoy, and Neville stumbled and hit his head on a wall.

By the time the haze of light faded and their vision returned, the Slytherins were gone, and three of the Battle-Axe Bandits could be seen nursing grotesquely oversized teeth, while the other, Elena Summers, had been laid out cold by one of Ginny's Stunners.

"That cowardly git!" growled Ron, hurrying over to the injured first-years. "We've got to go to the Hospital Wing."

"He's gone too far, yet again," said Hermione as they escorted the Bandits to the Hospital Wing and released them to a horrified Madam Pomfrey. "It'll be detention for that loathsome, evil, conniving-"

"That's not enough!" snapped Harry. "Attacking first-years!"

"I think he had the little one do the attacking," said Neville. "But I'm sure he taught that kid the curse."

"Detention isn't the answer," said Ron.

"You can't be serious," said Ginny. "I don't care what grudge you have against them, Malfoy was completely out of line!"

"I'm not talking about letting him off," said Ron. "Detention is the lowest form of revenge, unless you play by Umbridge's rules. Worst case scenario, they'll be polishing trophies."

"Ron, no," said Hermione. "We'll just get detention ourselves with whatever it is you're planning."

"I'm planning to not get involved," said Ron. "The Bandits will tell George, and George will help them. Malfoy doesn't stand a chance."

"Oh, well, I hope they're alright," said Hermione, peeking into the Hospital Wing. "That curse was horrible when I had to endure it, and I was a few years older than them."

"Worked out in the long run, though, didn't it?" said Harry, grinning. Hermione's cheeks turned a bit pink and she hid it by looking into the Hospital Wing again.

"In my first year there was a dueling club. Remember that?" asked Ginny. "Maybe we should let first and second-years into the D.A. so they can defend themselves against Malfoy's little proteges?"

"More munchkins?" whined Ron. "We have enough, Ginny!"

"Ginny, you've just given me an idea!" said Harry. He trotted away quickly without another word.

"Oh, don't elaborate or anything," mumbled Ron to Harry's back.

* * *

"Niffler, bubbles, oddjob, twerp," said Hagrid confidently. The three-headed dust golem's charge went uninterrupted. "That was it, righ'?"

"_Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak!_" cried Ernie Macmillan, but the thrashing dirt dog had already crashed down over Hagrid before exploding into a puff of dust.

Hagrid stood and nursed a bruise on his cheek, while Ernie helped dust him off.

"Thanks, Ernie." Hagrid smiled and patted Ernie on the back, which caused him to step forward involuntarily.

"Don't mention it," he said.

Hagrid squeezed through the hole under the trapdoor and made his way to the Chess Room beside Ernie, the Patil twins, and Lavender Brown. His thunderous footsteps were amplified by their echo in the underground chambers that were originally the hiding place for the Philosopher's Stone. They passed through the tall cylindrical room that was home to Flitwick's charmed keys. The room was so tall that light prickled in from the surface above.

"So, are any of yeh competin'?" asked Hagrid conversationally.

"I am, of course," said Ernie haughtily, his chin up. "I don't know about these three."

"Oh, we'll compete," said Parvati. Padma nodded from beside her. Lavender shrugged.

"Then best o' luck to yeh."

When they entered the Chess Room, Hagrid received a great round of applause, the most vigorous coming from Harry, Ron and Hermione. Without hesitation, Ernie bowed graciously as if the applause was for him. The room was packed tightly; there wasn't a spot of the floor visible through the sea of black-robed competitors from atop the glowing chessboard. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville and Ginny stood in a united front facing the cheering crowd.

"Welcome!" shouted Harry, waving his hand. "Welcome to the Dumbledore's Army Dueling Tournament! Your entry fees have been pooled, and the pot is in excess of two hundred Galleons!"

A raucous cheer swept through the crowd.

"Hermione here will explain the rules," Harry continued. He gestured towards a determined-looking Hermione who was whispering encouraging thoughts to herself.

"Right, well," Hermione gulped. "On the referee's go, you will attempt to stun your opponent by any means necessary. The Dark Arts are banned, as well as the Unforgivable Curses, of course. The only way to win is to keep your opponent down for a ten-count."

"The bracket's over there," said Neville, pointing to the D.A. blackboard which had been struck with an Engorgement Charm and stood at four times its original size, and was hanging on the far wall of the Chess Room. The participants rushed over to inspect it.

"Hagrid is your referee today," said Harry. "You will obey his orders and his decision."

The tournament began. Two by two, Ginny would call duelists to the chessboard, where flashes of red would fly, portions of the chessboard would crumble, one of the two duelists would eventually fall and Hagrid would count to 10. The portrait of the spiky-haired teen on the wall had a habit of shouting random numbers that were surprisingly effective at making Hagrid lose his place in the count. When a duel ended, the board was repaired and the next duel immediately began.

"Didn't really think about what it'd be like for Pomfrey," said Harry, looking concerned, as, for the twentieth time, an injured student left and headed for the Hospital Wing. "Just sort of winged it."

"It's what we do best," said Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes.

It was evening by the time the first round finally ended, and the remaining combatants exited the Chess Room and either went to their House's Common Room or the Hospital Wing, depending on their luck. The six leaders of Dumbledore's Army cruised through the first round with little trouble. One notable match was Luna Lovegood versus Gregory Goyle, which ended in a booming thud when Goyle landed in a faceplant over a patch of unlucky students in the crowd.

"That was great fun!" cheered Hermione on their way back to Gryffindor Common Room. "Who do you think is going to win?"

Harry coughed loudly. Ginny scoffed.

"Could be anyone," said Neville. "One lucky Stupefy and it's done."

"It's not that simple," said Harry. "Did you guys see Ernie's match? Made Zabini look like he was using a licorice wand!"

"Yes, Ernie was excellent," said Hermione. "Though I don't think I'd like to celebrate it with him. He'll be unbearable."

"When Malfoy made short work of Zacharias I didn't know whether to swear or thank Malfoy for doing something I've wanted to do for years," said Ron.

"And Luna," added Ginny. "Wow."

Neville smiled wistfully.

"I want to know who it is in that ruddy portrait," said Harry. "I've asked the portraits in McGonagall's office and they have no idea."

"He is quite rude," said Hermione. "Perhaps it's someone we've not met who died to defend Hogwarts? If it's a new portrait, that explains why nobody knows."

"McGonagall would know, then."

"Could be someone from such a long time ago that nobody recognizes him," said Neville.

"Possibly," said Hermione. "Actually, I think I might go-"

"To the library?" asked Ron. Hermione narrowed her eyes but nodded. "I'll go with you."

"Subtle, Ron," said Harry to Ron's back as Ron whisked Hermione off to the library.

* * *

The sky was a rich shadowy blue, like the depths of the ocean, with a faint glow on the horizon where the sun had disappeared minutes ago. Moving down the path from the Stone Circle to Hagrid's Hut was a bright cluster of dimly lit wands lead by a pyre of flame within a lantern that bobbed and rattled as its carrier walked. Behind the wands, the illuminated faces of several Gryffindors and Slytherins were visible, and behind the lantern's firelight, a large beared man stood.

"Righ' over here! We're goin' inter the forest!" called Hagrid.

"At this time of night?" complained a disgruntled Pansy Parkinson.

"Right-o! This ain't a class thats happenin' at some other time, this is a class that's happenin' righ' now!" replied Hagrid impatiently. Several Gryffindors sniggered.

"Not to complain," said Harry. "But why was this class scheduled so late?"

"It had ter be night time fer what I'm gonna show yeh."

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

"Just you wait."

The trio shared a terrified look, but trudged on. Just minutes after entering the forest, they came across a large pond surrounded by big gray rocks. With a start, Harry considered the possibility of the rocks being arranged to cage some sort of monster. The water was nearly pitch-black in the darkness of the Forbidden Forest, except for little circles of yellow light that danced across its surface like giant fireflies. The students stood, transfixed, gaping at the spots of light that swam about the pond, while Hagrid turned to face them.

"Miners," he said. "Fish with lights stickin' outta their heads!"

"Wicked," said Dean Thomas, leaning in for a closer look.

"If yeh drop anything in water, they can go n' find it fer yeh! So long as yer their mummy, a'course."

Hagrid withdrew a gold Galleon and tossed it far into the pond. In mere seconds, one of the lights in the pond began to glide towards the students. A large fish, about the size of a young pig, with pale mud-colored skin, protuberant, pearly white eyes with no pupils, and a massive underbite swam halfway onto the shore. Protruding from its forehead was a long fleshy spike with an orb of bright light at the end, looking like a big dandelion.

Several of the students flinched and backed away from the large fish as it opened its pointy jaw and revealed a shimmer of gold on its tongue. Hagrid crouched down and plucked the Galleon from the creature's mouth, and replaced it with a small dead rodent, which the fish then dragged into the water.

"Brilliant!" said Ron with wide eyes. "So if I drop a key or something?"

"He'll go n' get it! Yeh gotta raise one, though, that little feller proberbly wouldn't help yeh."

"Oh." Ron pouted.

"But, what have I always told you lot?"

"Dragons are misunderstood?" asked Seamus Finnegan. The class chuckled.

"Yeh, that, but I was talkin' 'bout the best way ter gain the respect of a Magical Creature."

"You've got to be the one to feed it," supplied Hermione.

"Great! Five points fer Gryffindor. Now, Miners like ter eat Murtlaps - good fer their bulbs, yeh know, the Murtlap essence - Right, grab yer Murtlaps from that pile over there and see if yeh can' feed one of the fish. Just don' touch the Miners, though, 'specially not their bulbs."

Harry grabbed a Murtlap and carried it by pinching a hair on its tail, unwilling to touch the rotting carcass. Ron had his in a full grenade grip, while Hermione had the sense to Locomotor hers. They sat at the shore, dipping the Murtlaps into the water by Hagrid's suggestion, and soon a few Miners came browsing.

"Next Quidditch match is soon," said Harry. "Against Ravenclaw. Will you be all right, Ron?"

"Yeah, unless one of these Miners takes a chunk of my hand, that is." Ron grimaced, prodding his Murtlap into one of the nearby fish's cheeks. It took the rodent from him gently and disappeared into the pond.

"You've got to go," said Hermione. "I've got a surprise for you."

"What is it?" asked Ron. Hermione gave him a look, and he widened his eyes. "Oh, that was a stupid question, wasn't it?"

"Rita's book has done a number on me," said Harry. "People keep asking me how to defeat Inferi with nothing but a flute."

"At least she didn't make it out like you two were together," said Ron. "I hate that rubbish."

"Don't worry," said Harry, grinning. "She was just using me for my fame."

"Oh, yes, I'm quite the ambitious girl, aren't I?" asked Hermione. Harry and Ron sniggered.

Near the end of the lesson, there was a loud splash as Neville fell into the pond, and an obedient Miner dragged the clumsy Gryffindor directly to Hagrid, as if Neville had just fallen out of Hagrid's pocket.

"That is useful," remarked Hermione on their way back. "I'm glad you convinced us to take this class again, Harry."

The class had just made it to the Covered Bridge, when there was a high-pitched feminine shriek and Ron could be seen bolting through the crowd towards the castle, shouting something about the spiders being back. Harry and Hermione looked towards the edge of the forest to see something scuttling away into the dark brush.

"Could it have been a Boggart?" asked Hermione, still staring into the trees. "Could it have also been the creature that attacked you?"

"Boggarts turn into Dementors in front of me. I don't know what that creature was."

"Boggarts change, Harry."


	15. Hagrid's Hive

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

In a dark room of scratched gray stone walls and old wooden lockers, several shadowy figures stood in rows, facing the exit. They began to march through the hallway towards the light at the end of the tunnel and the roar of the massive crowd, tightening their leathery red armor and gripping their brooms. Silently, the Gryffindor Quidditch Team walked out under the glaring sun, which Harry thought would prove to be an amenity once its rays illuminated the Golden Snitch.

Stepping out of the locker room on the opposite side of the bright green field was the Ravenclaw Quidditch team in their royal blue Quidditch robes. Predictably, the Houses were split, with the Gryffindor team receiving applause and cheers not only from their own stands but those of Hufflepuff House, and Ravenclaw rallying the support of the Slytherins.

There was a thunderous clamor when Luna Lovegood's enchanted lion hat shook the stands with its roar, but, unusually, it was coming from the Gryffindor stands. Harry, Ron and Ginny turned to see the ludicrous garment placed atop the head of Neville Longbottom, who was hollering and clapping uproariously. Beside him, Hermione was shaking hands and passing sheets of parchment to Bem, the leader of the Hogwarts Choir.

"Must have given it to him because she's supposed to be supporting Ravenclaw," said Ginny.

"Do you hear that?" asked Harry at the faint sound of a familiar melody.

"Oh, no," said Ron, slapping his forehead with his palm and sighing.

The Slytherins had begun their usual chant of the familiar abasing song, but were soon drowned out by a similar chant from the Gryffindor stands.

* * *

_He is the man, the myth, the legend_

_No one can score a point in his presence_

_When you first sign up to be a chaser_

_You must agree to face the danger_

* * *

Most of the Quidditch Pitch had gone silent as the magically amplified voices of the singing Gryffindors over the field, with Neville activating the roar of Luna's hat during pauses in the lyrics. Hermione offered Ron a wink that made the tips of his ears practically glow red in the sunlight. Much to Ron's joy, the Gryffindor squad began singing along.

* * *

_Weasley is our king _

_*ROAR*_

_He never lets the Quaffle in_

_Weasley is our king _

_*ROAR*_

_He can lock down every ring_

* * *

"What do you think, Ron?" asked Harry.

"I think Malfoy can kick rocks," said Ron, grinning. "Come on, Harry, we've got a game to win."

His confidence boosted by Hermione's surprise, Ron shut the goalposts down with near-perfect accuracy. His saves were so numerous and spectacular that even the occasional fumble wouldn't shake his focus. With the goalposts protected, Harry's mind was free to concentrate on locating the Golden Snitch.

"There's Ron blocking another ball," said commentator Luna Lovegood. She then yawned into her megaphone and continued, "He's testy at times, but I've heard he's got a tattoo of a Pygmy Puff." The crowd erupted in laughter as Ron began shouting his denial and Professor McGonagall demanded that Luna concentrate on the game.

Nearly an hour went by with Gryffindor dominating the scoreboard and no sign of the shimmering Golden Snitch. A lot of the Ravenclaws and Slytherins had left the stadium, and Luna, in an attempt to cheer the Ravenclaws up, or perhaps merely because she was bored, began talking about the crisis of the Blibbering Humdinger's endangerment.

"There have been nearly no sightings lately ... What would any of us do if they ceased to exist? Oh! Harry Potter's seen something! He's going into a sort of dive - oh, there you go, Harry - he has the Golden Snitch. Gryffindor is the winner, I suppose."

With the point differential at more than three hundred, the game ended and the Ravenclaws wandered back towards the castle with their heads tilted down. Luna retrieved her lion's hat from Neville and skipped off to join her fellow blue-robed mourners. The Gryffindor Quidditch team strutted towards the castle as well, their chins up and their brooms hoisted over their shoulders, past the forlorn faces of the Ravenclaws and to the entrance hall where they met the rest of Gryffindor House.

"Great job!" said Seamus Finnegan as the Gryffindor Quidditch Team received the warmest of welcomes.

"Tell that to the choir," said Harry, nudging Ron with his elbow. "And Ginny, as well. t's not every day someone scores more than the Seeker."

Ginny balled her hands into fists and placed them at her hips in a heroic stance, while being congratulated by her peers. After a moment, she caught sight of something behind Harry, and her grin faded. She turned and joined the line of Gryffindors that were heading to the common room to celebrate, led by the war-dancing Beaters Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote.

Harry was about to turn to look at whatever caught Ginny's eye, but Ron gripped his shoulders firmly and began walking him into the entrance hall so quickly that they nearly stumbled over a shy little House Elf that was sweeping the floors. Hermione appeared to have gone ahead to walk by Ginny's side.

"Don't look, it's Cho," Ron explained.

Just then, Harry felt something pelt him in the back of the head. He turned to see not Cho but the grinning maw of Peeves the Poltergeist sitting cross-legged in mid-air. Behind him, Cho turned a corner warily, steering clear of the little green menace. Peeves reached into his pockets yet again, but before he could unleash whatever terror lie within them, he was popped on the cheek by an Exploding Snap card that exploded in his face.

"_Waddiwasi!_" Harry flicked his wand at the piece of chalk he'd been struck with, rocketing it into Peeves's mouth.

Peeves fled quickly from the double-pronged attack, while Harry looked around the base of the grand staircase to locate the source of the Exploding Snap card. A small, familiar first-year Gryffindor approached Harry from behind a corner, pocketing a deck of Exploding Snap cards and smiling sheepishly.

"Nice throw," remarked Ron. "Five points for your house, I reckon. What's your name?"

"It's Con Castle," said Harry, shaking his head. "And you call yourself Head Boy."

"I call meself a lot of things..."

"Here," said little Con.

He handed Harry a pentangular blue card and jogged off up the stairs while Harry inspected it. It was a Chocolate Frog card, and from the picture at its center, Harry saw a miniature version of himself staring back at him, flanked by Ron and Hermione in the background.

_Harry James Potter_

_Currently a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Known as The Boy Who Lived, he is one third of the famous Golden Trio which defeated the Dark Lord, and has won the most recent Tri-Wizard Tournament. He is known for his dueling proficiency, bravery, flying ability, disregard for school rules and lightning-bolt scar._

When Harry and Ron returned to the common room, they were welcomed with a round of applause by the crowd inside. Seamus approached the duo with one hand holding a bottle of Butterbeer and the other arm around an uncomfortable-looking fifth-year girl.

"Just a little victory party!" he explained. "Butterbeer's on the table. It's a different brew than you're used to, y'know, a special reserve..."

"Spiking the Butterbeer are we, Finnegan?" said Ron sternly. "Ten points for Gryffindor!"

After retrieving two Butterbeers and cooling them with a Cooling Charm, Harry and Ron made their way through the room, searching for Hermione, Ginny, or Neville, to show them Harry's Chocolate Frog card.

"An average Chaser would have settled for twenty points," said Dean to a group of giggling sixth-year girls as Harry and Ron passed. "Not me. I would have gone for forty if Harry hadn't ended the game early."

"That game lasted forever," mumbled Harry as they moved on.

The Beaters' war-dance had evolved into a conga line, which was circling the common room to a rhythm Dennis Creevey was drumming onto a wooden table with the Beaters' bats. Colin was snapping pictures of the revelry from his portrait while Fred danced in the background, wielding more stolen rum.

"There they are," said Harry, pointing to a set of armchairs by the fire, which were occupied by two girls huddled over a piece of parchment.

"There you are," said Ginny to Harry and Ron as they approached. "Look at this."

Ginny thrust the small note into Ron's hands and he stretched it out, reading it aloud.

"It's happening. I'm going to be a daddy. Come by me house as soon as possible." Ron glanced up at Harry, horrified. "It's from Hagrid."

"Er - I think he means Scorpagog's hatching," Harry replied.

"That's even worse!"

"Let's go, then," said Harry.

"I'm not going there, that thing's scary," said Ginny.

"I want it to know me," said Harry. "That way it wont sick its mates on me just because I took a wrong turn in the bloody woods.

"Here," continued Harry, throwing the pentagonal blue card to Ginny. "Something to look at."

He waggled his eyebrows and ushered Ron and Hermione towards the door, leaving Ginny there to scoff. The trio ambled down the grand staircase, remembering to skip the trick step while keeping an eye out for the vengeful Peeves. On their way through the clock tower courtyard, they ran into a girl leading a group of sad Ravenclaws.

"Harry!" said Cho, smiling. "I tried to find you earlier-"

"Cho!" said Harry. "Come, we're off to Hagrid's!"

Ron and Hermione looked as if they'd just been slapped.

"Oh? Alright then."

Cho smiled and joined them in their walk across the covered bridge, past the mysterious stone circle above which a hundred faeries dotted the trees, and on to Hagrid's small home. The windows gleamed an amber color in the light of the fireplace within, which was blowing puffs of smoke out of the chimney above. Buckbeak the Hippogriff was curled up cozily in his nest atop the house's roof, with a few raccoon carcasses splayed beside him, stored for a rainy day.

Hermione looked incredibly guilty, and kept peeking back towards the castle, as if Ginny was watching her from one of its many turrets. Ron's look of confusion from Harry's actions hadn't yet faded. Cho looked oblivious to the whole thing, as she was eyeing Buckbeak cautiously.

"Hagrid's a half-giant," mentioned Hermione, glancing at Cho. "Did you know?"

"Yes, but he's very nice," replied Cho. Hermione huffed.

They arrived at the front step and Harry banged his knuckles on the wooden plank, shaking it with each knock. Fang's booming barks sounded from within, along with Hagrid's annoyed shushing. After a few seconds, the door swung open and there stood Hagrid, the massive bearded gamekeeper. Behind Hagrid, the fishtank full of pale green liquid was visible, with the fleshy sack that contained an unborn insect pumping wildly like the heart of a sprinting cheetah.

"Come in! He's jus' about hatched!" said Hagrid. He cast an odd look at Harry and Cho before turning and walking over to the tank.

The egg had grown since the trio's last visit, as had Scorpagog, the scorpion within it. Scorpagog was flipping around in the water, flailing his bony limbs and tail wildly until his sting ruptured the side of the sack, releasing him into the green liquid that filled his tank. Hagrid immediately dipped a dustbin lid-sized hand into the tank and gently removed the insect, placing it on a cloth on his circular table. Despite his age, Scorpagog was already bigger than any scorpion Harry had ever seen, at the size of a cat.

"Hello, there, Scorpy," said Hagrid. Behind him, Harry was staring in awe, while Ron had flattened himself against the farthest wall, his eyes wide. "Kinda cute, ain't he?"

"A bit, if you try really hard to ignore a lot of things," said Hermione, as Scorpagog's marble-like eyes shifted from one human to another above two sharp pincers.

"What do you think of that, Cho?" asked Harry, but when he turned around, he saw nothing but Hagrid's open door. "Oh, would you look at that, she's gone."

"Why'd you bring her anyway?" asked Ron from across the room.

"Because, I knew she'd be repulsed. She leaves me alone, and I don't have to get hexed."

There was a high-pitched whining noise like a siren coming from Hagrid's table; Hagrid quickly fetched a leaf of lettuce and placed it under the whining scorpion. Scorpagog took the leaf in one of his claws and nibbled on the stem.

"It's not right," said Hermione, shaking her head. "This can't end well, Hagrid."

"Ah, tha's what yeh said the last time," said Hagrid, waving a hand in dismissal.

"You and I remember the last time very differently, it seems!" said Hermione.

"Oh, let him have his fun," said Harry.

"What has gotten into you, Harry?"

"I think it's more about what's gotten out," said Ron.

"So it's a bad thing, is it, that Voldemort is no longer a part of me? Should I labor to act as though he's still tugging at my every nerve, and skewing my emotions?"

Hermione fell silent.

"Eh, don' yeh worry 'bout this one. Got 'em from a top Persian merchant," assured Hagrid.

"Persians!" said Harry, nodding.

"Fine. If you think you and this creature are going to simply live happily ever after and no one's going to get hurt, we'll have to leave it to McGonagall to decide."

* * *

,

Harry, Ron and Hermione climbed up the hill from Hagrid's Hut to the castle. Ron appeared to have developed a nervous tick that caused him to glance towards the edge of the forest beside them frequently. From the sight of a large pair of wings circling an area above the forest, the trio knew Buckbeak had gone hunting.

"Third year, when you stormed out of Trelawney's classroom," said Ron, his eyes still monitoring the forest.

"That's when you knew?" asked Hermione, bewildered. "You must fancy a good rebellion."

"No, Trelawney said something about the shriveled heart that beats beneath your bosom, and that's when I noticed it."

"Noticed what?"

"You had bosoms..." Ron looked up at the sky, hiding his red face from the shorter Hermione. Harry chuckled loudly beside him.

"And that's the basis for this entire relationship?" asked Hermione, crossing her arms.

"No, there's other stuff. Er - Should we really be talking about this in front of Harry?"

"Oh, no, go right ahead," said Harry, grinning. "This is brilliant."

"Look, it's Ritchie and Jimmy," said Ron, pointing up to the stairs of the Owlery tower. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron.

"I wish they'd stop that stupid dance," said Zacharias Smith in passing. "They look like drunken orangutans."

They made their way to the clocktower courtyard, where several students were gathered in a circle, similarly to the scene where Dolores Umbridge sacked Professor Trelawney. They were gathered around three ghostly-white students with skin brighter than the snow below them.

The students had been stripped to their underwear, with their arms and legs stuck together as though bound by invisible rope. They were hopping through the clocktower courtyard angrily, searching for the exit. After a while, several Slytherins came to their rescue and freed them of their binds, at which point they dashed out of the courtyard with pink faces, chased by the laughter of the entire courtyard.

"Revenge is a heady elixir," said a nearby voice. The trio turned to see four Hufflepuff first-years leaning against a nearby wall. "Malfoy's cronies will know better than to cross us in future."

"You?" asked Harry dumbly, the grin still plastered on his face.

"What happened was, their clothes just decided to shrink," continued their leader, Sherman Roque, juggling a bottle of mauve liquid in one hand.

"So much, in fact, that they disappeared completely," added Elena Summers from beside him. "Damndest thing."

"I told you," said Ron, nudging his two companions and smiling.

"So, Harry, how exactly does it feel to defeat an army of Inferi with just a flute?" asked Blackboot with a smirk.

The Bandits passed by the trio, cackling loudly to join in the laughter of the gathering of students.

"I suppose the twins' legend lives on," said Hermione. "Filch won't have a moment's rest."

"Doesn't matter," said Ron. "The old grunt loves it anyway."


	16. Wolf, Hyena, and Spider

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

A/N: This has been my favorite chapter so far.

* * *

The six leaders of Dumbledore's Army united again for their trip to Hogsmeade on the weekend. In preparation for the cold chill of February, they'd donned thick bombers, snow boots, earmuffs, and wool hats. They walked down the path to Hogsmeade with their hands burrowed in the warmth of their coats, and their faces scrunched, grimacing against the driving wind. After a while of silence interrupted only by the crunching of snow beneath their steps, it was Neville who spoke first, under his red puffball hat.

"I could use something hot," he said.

"Here," said Luna, handing him a burnt-looking pepper from her bag.

"I meant temperature-wise."

"Oh, yes, of course. Hot chocolate is your favorite, isn't it?"

"Yes." A smile appeared across Neville's red cheeks.

"A'course the best way to warm up is to strip naked and wrap yourself in a cocoon of blankets with another naked person," said Ron casually. Neville's eyes widened and he stared at Ron in horror.

"Thanks for that," said Ginny, to general laughter. "Where'd you learn that anyway?"

"I do pay attention in school sometimes; that was one of the most interesting bits of information in all of macadamia." Ron glanced around at his chuckling peers and frowned. "What's so funny?"

"Academia, Ron," said Hermione.

"This is your Head Boy, ladies and gentlemen," said Harry, shaking his head. "Merlin."

"Oh, piss off, that's practically the same word!" said Ron.

"On a different subject, what will be the date of the next round of the tournament?" asked Luna, her protuberant eyes shifting to Harry.

"Not sure yet," said Harry. "The homework this year is killer, and, as Hermione always says, that comes first."

Ron, Neville and Ginny laughed and scoffed.

"We've also got the regular D.A. meetings to worry about. You're a leader too, Luna, you know that?"

"Oh, I know, but I expect there will always be a trio that exists within your inner circle that decides these things."

"Well consider it a ... six-sided thing, now."

"Sextet," corrected Hermione automatically. Harry and Ron shared a look and grinned.

"Uh-oh," said Ron. "Here comes trouble."

As they reached the end of the path and walked into Hogsmeade village, they came across a group of witches chattering and giggling on the dry wooden porch in front of the Three Broomsticks tavern. One of the witches caught sight of Harry and offered a quick goodbye to her friends before jogging over to the group of D.A. leaders. Neville grasped Luna's hand quickly and guided her through the swinging doors into the Three Broomsticks, leaving his other four friends behind.

"Hello, Harry," said Cho, smiling brightly. Ginny made an exaggerated lurching noise and walked off into the tavern. "Er ... So what do you want to do first?"

"I'm sorry?" Harry looked around at his friends, searching for an explanation.

"You said okay, didn't you?"

"I wasn't saying 'okay' as in 'okay!' But more like 'okay, listen, Cho,' but that thing attacked us so all I could manage was 'okay.'" Harry shifted on his feet, glancing at the ground.

"Oh, well," said Cho, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Wait. What?"

"It's simple," said Ron with a wicked grin. "He meant we should go to Madam Puddifoot's."

Harry widened his eyes, glaring at Ron with indignation. Hermione and Ron made eye contact communicatively; Hermione then nodded and imitated Ron's grin.

"A fine idea," said Hermione. "Cho?"

"Sure..." replied Cho unsurely, glancing at Harry.

Harry followed the group past the path to the Hog's Head and towards Madam Puddifoot's, staring daggers at the back of Ron's head. They trudged up an unshoveled side road and entered a small tea shop. It was a cozy, steamy place decorated solely in shades of pink, and with no shortage of frills and bows. They were welcomed by a stout witch with a pleasant smile, a twinkle in her eye, and her black hair in a tight bun.

"Did Umbridge decorate this place?" mumbled Ron as they sat at a soft, rose-colored booth with a light coral table.

"It does have a similar style, doesn't it?" observed Cho, glancing around. "I used to think it was cute, but after those detentions, I don't know."

"At least there are no kittens," said Harry. Cho smiled weakly.

"But I think it's ever so romantic!" declared Hermione dramatically. Cho glanced at her with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, my love," added Ron. Harry sighed and placed his head in his hands. "My love for you is like a - a butterfly and a rainbow getting off with each other."

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione touched the back of her hand to her forehead as if about to faint. Beside her, Cho ordered coffees for the group, looking uneased.

"Oh, would you stop it already, we're in public!" growled Harry, pointedly ignoring the grid of snogging couples in the tables beside him that didn't seem to care that they were in public. "Besides, I've got to go. I said I'd meet -"

Harry caught Cho's eye, and faltered, before sputtering "Neville. Three Broomsticks. Goodbye!"

In an instant, Harry was out the door. Cho excused herself and followed him, leaving Ron and Hermione in a fit of laughter. Harry marched back onto the main road and towards the Three Broomsticks at the end of Hogsmeade, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes on the lookout for Ginny. Halfway to his destination, Cho caught up with him and tapped him on the back.

"Hey, Harry," she said, slightly breathless. "They're a strange couple, aren't they?"

"They were just messing around," said Harry quickly. "Cho, the truth is, I'm going to meet Ginny at the Three Broomsticks, and she's my girlfriend."

"Oh." Cho's expression fell. "Okay, see you around."

A movement in the snowcapped bushes near the forest caught Harry's eye, and he looked over to see two brown eyes staring back at him from the face of a canine. Its fur was spotted with black and its shoulders were hunched greatly. After a brief staring contest, Harry quickly continued on his path to the Three Broomsticks in a half-jog.

When he strolled into the building, his eyes immediately swept its cozy wooden booths, unsturdy tables and wobbling chairs for any sign of Ginny's vivid red hair. With no sign of the girl, he walked over to Neville who was sitting between Luna and Dennis Creevey.

"Where's Ginny?" asked Harry.

"She left a bit ago," said Dennis. "Ticked about something, by the look of it."

* * *

Ginny Weasley walked out of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop stowing a new green-and-yellow Harpie feather quill in her bag. She glanced at the Three Broomsticks, but decided she'd be better off going back to the castle for a fly on her Firebolt. As she began her trek up the path towards Hogwarts, she came across a group of students in black robes with the green symbol of the Slytherin serpent at their hearts. Their leader, the pointed-faced, blonde-haired Draco Malfoy, leered at Ginny, his eyes nearly red with hatred.

"The _weasel_ girl," he spat. "I know you lot helped those Hufflepuff losers."

"No excuses, Draco," replied Ginny, smirking. "You messed with a group of first-years and ended up embarrassed. One would think you'd be used to shame by now."

"That's nothing compared to the shame of being Potter's backup wench," replied Malfoy, nodding towards his goons as a signal for them to laugh.

"How about a duel?" growled Ginny. "One week from today, at about nine P.M."

"Where?"

"The Shrieking Shack, if you've got the guts."

"It's locked up, you idiot. How are we supposed to get in?"

"There's a passageway under the Whomping Willow. Press the knot by the opening near its roots and it'll freeze."

"Er... Fine. Just don't go whining to McGonagall when you've been hexed beyond all recognition." Malfoy's fellow Slytherins chuckled obediently as they walked away.

* * *

"So, you thought if you brought them both here they'd spark up another row and have done with it?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, Harry doesn't have the nerve to tell her off. He thinks she'll curse him." Ron took a heavy bite of his slice of Madam Puddifoot's Cupid Cake.

"He can face Voldemort but not Cho?" asked Hermione, shaking her head with a small smile.

"Women," began Ron, raising his index finger. Hermione narrowed her eyes, and he hesitated, then continued, "They're lovely. Don't know what Harry's problem is."

"His problem is he's too hotheaded to forget his pride and stay true to Ginny."

"Give him a break, please," said Ron softly as Madam Puddifoot strolled past their table and dropped a pink slip of parchment at its center. Ron waited for her to strut out of earshot before mumbling, "More pink? Is this supposed to be romantic?"

"I suppose," said Hermione, looking around and making the realization that the only things in the room that weren't pink or purple were the customers. "Well, what do you find romantic, then?"

"Snogging," said Ron, grinning, as they paid and stood to leave. "Or did you want me to be 'deep' there?"

"I didn't expect it," said Hermione, stopping at the door and wrapping a scarf around her neck.

"I think spending five nights working your arse off on a potion for someone is romantic," said Ron, opening the door for Hermione to leave, then following her out. "And vomiting slugs to defend someone's honor. Let's call it even, shall we?"

Hermione laughed lightly and nodded before Ron eliminated any distance between them by pressing her against the wall next to the entrance to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. He leaned down to make up for the difference in height and connected his lips to hers, and soon their arms were locked around each other, and the heat of their bodies combined to beat the freezing wind. When Ron moved down to her neck, Hermione caught sight of a creature moving behind the bushes near Scrivenshaft's.

"Aw, it's a stray," she said, frowning. "That's an odd fur pattern - _ooh, Ron..._"

* * *

The next week rolled by smoothly, except for the ominously curling petals of Ron's starflower. When February was at an end, Ron stepped down from the Boys' Dormitory like a prisoner on death row, with the same dark lines carved in his face, bags under his eyes, and slimy yellow teeth as he'd always had around the time of his transformation. He turned and offered Fred's portrait a greeting.

"Wow, Ron, you look like hell!" remarked Fred, raising his eyebrows.

"Spattergroit," mumbled Ron.

"Bollocks," said Fred. "You never really had -"

"Shurrup," growled Ron, rubbing his twinging forehead and collapsing down onto a bloodred armchair next to Harry and Hermione. "Hi guys."

"How are you feeling?" asked Hermione, marking her place in her book and setting it down.

"Feral," replied Ron. Hermione smirked.

"Speaking of feral - that thing that's been appearing in the forest lately - could it have been a dog?" asked Harry with a glance to Ron. "It was watching me again when we went to Hogsmeade. Hermione saw it too."

"It was definitely a spider," said Ron. "I saw eight eyes."

"_Ahem,_" said Colin from his portrait above the fireplace in front of them. "Could it have been this?"

The gold-plated slot below Colin's portrait shot a projectile into Harry's forehead.

"Ow!" exclaimed Harry, rubbing his scar and examining the photograph he'd just been pelted with. "Wait a tick - yes! That's it!"

He passed it to Hermione, and she nodded before passing it to Ron. The photograph was a still picture of a dark and empty Gryffindor Common room. Illuminated by the remnants of the fire was a large, skinny dog with a big chest and a hunched back. Its snout was odd, almost like a pig's and its ears were round like those of a mouse.

"That's not a dog, mate," said Dean from behind them. "That's a hyena; they're from Africa."

"Oh!" said Hermione. "That's right!"

"Some Muggleborn you are," said Ron, not taking his eyes from the picture. "Wonder how it got in."

"That could explain your stolen bag, Hermione," said Harry. "If it's an Animagus."

"A hyena would have left traces of slobber on the bag." Hermione returned to her heavy Ancient Runes book. "We will, of course, have to alert the Headmistress."

"So you'll alert her to this, but not the bloody spider that's been stalking me since the beginning of the year?" Ron tossed the picture onto a nearby table.

"That spider, if it exists, hasn't gone past the edge of the forest. This person - and I'm saying person because it must be an Animagus - has actually broken into not only the castle but the Gryffindor Common Room."

"What if it's a Gryffindor?" asked Dean. "Could have just walked in."

"Doubtful. An Animagus transfiguration is no easy bit of magic, especially for a student."

"Neither are Infernums, but we've been doing those."

"In any case, I'll have to tell McGonagall." Hermione closed her book, stowed it in her beaded bag and took the picture with her as she exited through the portrait hole.

"Chess?" asked Harry. Ron nodded and followed him over to the table.

* * *

The day passed by rather quickly. Hermione returned to inform the Gryffindors that Filch was on full alert, Ron achieved a few victories at Wizard's Chess, and Fred and Colin held their usual card game with Albus Dumbledore, Sir Cadogan, and Remus Lupin in Colin's portrait. Lupin cast a few odd looks towards Ron, perhaps recognizing the symptoms of the werewolf curse.

After the sun had set with ripples of magenta streaking the clouds on the horizon, Ron bade his friends goodnight and began his dreaded walk to the Entrance Hall to meet Flitwick, his hands in his pockets, Hermione by his side.

"Hello," said a passing Hannah Abbot. Ron grunted a response while Hermione greeted her.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," said Professor Flitwick. His tone was consoling. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

"See you soon, Ron," said Hermione. She stood on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. "I'll be there in the morning."

"Thanks, Hermione, goodbye." Ron smiled weakly and followed the tiny Professor Flitwick through the Entrance Hall to the Clock Tower and onto the Covered Bridge.

"Did you know that the uses of Murtlap Essence were discovered by a werewolf?" said Flitwick conversationally.

"Oh, thanks, Professor," said Ron, chuckling once. Flitwick grinned.

Ron could feel his heart beginning to race and his bones beginning to ache. He could already feel the pain in his fingernails, which would soon be claws, and his head, which would soon morph graphically into that of a wolf's. Once they reached the threateningly swaying Whomping Wollow, Professor Flitwick dashed to its base with surprising agility and tapped a knob on one of its large roots, paralyzing it. Ron hurried into the crawlspace underneath the tree and took the tunnel all the way to the Shrieking Shack.

* * *

"You did _WHAT?_" shouted a shocked Harry Potter, causing a gaggle of nearby second-year girls to jump and hurry off down the corridor.

"I told Malfoy about the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack," said Ginny, shrinking a bit under the intensity of Harry's gaze. "He'll be there tonight."

"He could die!"

"I was angry, okay? I just wanted to give him a scare."

"That's no excuse! Do you know what could happen to Ron if Malfoy gets hurt? Oh, this is unbelievable!"

Harry glanced out of one of the castle's windows, looking west towards the Whomping Willow, for any sign of a pale Slytherin boy. When he looked back at Ginny, he felt a surge of remorse, as her eyes were watered slightly and her lips were twitching. Harry swept her in a hug and kissed her forehead, rather boldly, as she generally wouldn't let him do such a thing these days.

"It's alright, Ginny, Sirius did the same thing to Snape. The exact same thing, actually..." Harry felt Ginny relax into his chest. "I'll go warn Malfoy."

Harry glanced through the window again to see someone in a black cloak crossing the Covered Bridge towards the Owlery. Without hesitation, Harry made a dash through the portrait hole and down the shifting stone steps of the Grand Staircase. He barreled through the Entrance Hall, crashing through a herd of fifth-year students in his haste and shouting his apologies as he left through the oak front doors.

Past the Clock Tower, through its courtyard, across the Covered Bridge, Harry arrived at the Stone Circle and looked around for the cloaked figure.

"Malfoy!" he shouted, as he neared the Whomping Willow.

To Harry's horror, it had been frozen recently. Harry dove into the passageway that led to the Shrieking Shack, calling Malfoy's name. As he reached the end of the long, curved tunnel, there was a shard of light ahead, shining through the open door to the shack.

Harry tripped over the earthy floor as he approached the door in a crawling sprint, then a voice from the doorway spoke:

"What the hell are you doing, Potter?" It was Draco Malfoy, standing in the doorway to the shack.

"It's a trap!" whispered Harry breathlessly. "There's a werewolf in there!"

"What?"

"We need to get out of here!" Harry stood and gestured for Malfoy to leave. Malfoy looked skeptical.

"Is this some trick to save your little girlfriend?" Malfoy turned and peeked his head into the doorway, then immediately removed it and glanced at Harry, the color drained from his face. "Run!"

Harry and Malfoy ran side-by-side through the dark channel, making their way back to the Whomping Willow as the silhouette of a large figure appeared in the doorway behind them. Harry grimaced as a stitch stung in his stomach and his legs ached, but continued all the way to the end of the underground road and out towards the Stone Circle after tapping the knot under the Whomping Willow once again.

"Phew," said Harry, collapsing into one of the tall rocks that formed the Stone Circle. Malfoy sat opposite him, panting and sweating.

"Why did you come to warn me?" asked Malfoy between heavy breaths.

"A better question is how did we just outrun a werewolf?" said Harry, resting his head back against the cold stone.

"Because it wasn't a werewolf, it was a spider."

"What?"

Just then, a dark mass of hairy legs and inky black eyes scurried out of the Whomping Willow, shuffling quickly into the forest beside them.

"It is a spider... What the _hell_ is going on in this school?" asked Harry to the heavens.

"Compared to all my other years, this one's been remarkably mild," said Malfoy with a quiet laugh. "So, Potter, why did you help me?"

"You could have been hurt."

"But, last I checked, we hate each other. All I've done... I was a Death Eater, and you're Harry Potter..."

"You were just caught in the middle of all that, I reckon. Maybe you wanted to be the Harry Potter of the dark side, I don't know."

"Yeah, I did," said Malfoy, shaking his head and staring up at the full moon. "I was terrified. Of V-Voldemort ... of my father ... We'll never be friends, Potter. I think you're a punk-"

"And I think you're a coward," said Harry quickly, narrowing his eyes.

"- but thank you. You will be repaid."

"That's not necessary."

"I don't want to owe you anything, Pott - Harry..." At that, Malfoy turned around with a whip of his cloak and walked back towards the castle.

* * *

Ron Weasley hobbled into the Shrieking Shack, his arms already sprouting pale rust-colored fur. His bones ached and began to soften and morph. New joints jutted through his shins and he grew several feet in height. His vision of the familiar shack began to blur, its coat of off-white paint with a second coat of dust, its dirty rugs and grimy glass, its grainy tables with their tasteless legs, all meshing together in splotches of gray and black.

Ron flailed his new claws in an attempt to shake the pain away, and found himself rolling on the coarse floor like a grounded fish. When his transformation was complete, Ron remained sprawled over the floor for nearly half an hour before his hunger rose like hot air in his chest. Ron stood and prowled about the room, searching for something to chomp on, eager to relieve his throbbing fangs.

He had just sank his teeth into the seat of a nearby chair when he heard the door to the shack swinging open and the quiet patter of several legs approaching. Ron crawled into the other room, towards the source of the noise, staying low to the ground, ready to pounce. Ron's fears were confirmed when he laid eyes on the creature that had entered the house. Standing before him was an Acromantula; a giant, furry tarantula with eight shiny black eyes.

Ron bared his jagged yellow teeth and gave his most menacing growl, dripping drool onto the wooden floor below; the tarantula didn't flinch. Tts two large fangs quivered and it began to speak in that familiar and horrible voice, like the voice of its father, Aragog.

"Halt! Do not attack!" said the spider. "I am Gogara, first son of Aragog, King of Arachnids."

Ron's growl intensified at the mention of Aragog's name. He dipped lower to the ground and prowled closer, scrutinizing Gogara with glaring eyes.

"Our family was devastated by the invasion of your human Death Eaters when they used our land as a base of operation," explained Gogara. "The survivors were split into two groups: those who joined the Death Eaters in their raid on Hogwarts castle, and those who vowed to select their allies more carefully. To us, they did an unspeakable wrong when they captured Hagrid. If my father were alive then, they'd not have been so lucky. They'd not have lived, not one of them, except perhaps... Him..."

Somewhere during that flow of information, Ron's growl died down, and the wolf just stood there looking gobsmacked with his jaw hanging open.

"Your chattering owl informed us of Hagrid's troubles with the Centaur Dominion. We did our best to trap them in our domain - we do like horse meat, yes ... Regrettably, a few escaped. We followed them into the castle through that mysterious door, but there was a fire, and we were forced to flee."

Ron lowered his rear to the ground and sat like a dog, and ceased all forms of intimidation.

"I've tried to approach you on several occasions, but that blasted tree... We did come across this thing. It reeks of your - no offense - stench, so I thought I'd return it to you." Gogara dropped something on the floor, but Ron, with his limited canine vision, only saw a glimmer of silver. Gogara turned to scurry back into the tunnel, saying, "Farewell, Roonil, friend of Hagrid!"


	17. In a Snow Bound Land

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

"Ron?" a familiar voice echoed loudly in Ron's skull. "Are you all right?"

Ron opened his eyes and struggled to focus his gaze. His vision sharpened from a murky blur to a clear image of a bushy-haired girl sitting on her knees beside him, her chocolate-brown eyes wide with concern. Ron nodded to her with a smile and she began to inspect his body for wounds. She discovered a small cut on his shoulder and dabbed a bit of brown Dittany liquid onto the area. Ron vaguely felt his skin stretching over the gash when he rose to his feet.

"I found this by the door," said Hermione. She handed Ron a silver cigarette lighter, which he knew to be the Deluminator.

"Yeah," said Ron, rubbing his pained fingernails and pocketing the device. "Gogara gave it to me."

"Gogara?"

"That Acromantula bloke that's been stalking me since I got here." Ron walked towards the door, holding onto Hermione for support. "Told you it was a spider."

"He approached you?" asked Hermione, hugging the limping Ron to her side.

Ron told Hermione the tale of Gogara and the Acromantulas. By the time he'd finished, they were at the end of the tunnel.

"I suppose you could understand him because you'd become an animal. There's definitely some sort of communication between animals if Pigwidgeon informed them of Hagrid's plight. Sirius formed an allegiance with Crookshanks, so there must be." Hermione tapped the knot at the base of the Whomping Willow and helped Ron out of the passageway. "I suppose some of the spiders see Hagrid as a sort of godfather, and when the Death Eaters tied Hagrid up, they took offense."

When they reached the stone circle, Harry and Ginny jogged over to them from the covered bridge. Ginny gave Ron his usual post-transformation hug, and Harry offered him a pat on the shoulder.

"What time is it?" asked Ron.

"Eleven," said Harry, checking his watch.

"We've got to go down to Hagrid's." Ron turned and limped down the hill towards Hagrid's hut.

"Hey, you lot!" Hagrid stepped back, gesturing for the four students to enter his house while hushing his barking boarhound. "How would yeh like some tea?"

"Milk," said Ron. "If you have it."

"Oh, yeh know I've always got summat," said Hagrid. He withdrew a large corked bottle from a shelf; its accumulation of frost told Ron that it'd been magically cooled. "Fresh from the udder."

"The udder of _what?_," mumbled Ron, but then he took a big gulp of milk and smiled, appearing invigorated. "Anyway, you wouldn't believe who I met last night, Hagrid..."

"_Barnabus's boot!_" exclaimed Hagrid after Ron retold the tale of Gogara's visit. He took the whining copper kettle out of the fire and poured tea for Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. Ron was on his third bottle of milk. "That's some story. Glad Aragog's family's bin' up ter some good. I don't know if yeh knew, but they weren't the friendliest a' folk."

"I had a feeling," said Harry. Ron let out a low whistle.

"Hagrid," said Hermione slowly. She was looking around Hagrid's small home for something. "Where's Scorpagog?"

"Thought yeh'd never ask!" said Hagrid, removing his apron. "Come out back. He's grown too big fer the house, plus he was scarin' Fang."

When Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny followed Hagrid around to the back of his hut, they found a large pen erected near the stables, cleverly placed in an area such that it wouldn't be visible from the field where Hagrid conducted his Care of Magical Creatures class. There was a large hollowed-out log, several old boots, wooden planks and other such junk splayed about the pen, and the ground had been coated with sand and gravel.

"Scorpy! Yer friends are here ter see yeh!" said Hagrid to the log.

The teenagers flinched as a large scorpion the size of a big dog scurried out from inside the log. Its carapace was a burnt-looking bronze color, and its eyes were like small black marbles. Scorpagog approached the end of the pen cautiously, shifting his gaze from Hagrid, to Harry, to Harry's three nervous-looking friends. He had a habit of snapping his claws idly, making quiet chomping noises whenever he did.

Scorpagog's mouth was comprised of two large fangs, like Gogara's, and it quivered in a similar manner when he said, "_Ba-ba._"

"Oh, righ'," said Hagrid. He walked over to a dog toy that had fallen out of the bounds of the pen and picked it up, then tossed it to the scorpion who took it in his claw.

"How exactly did you acquire Scorpagog?" asked Hermione, looking up at Hagrid. Scorpagog was squeezing the toy repeatedly, eliciting a squeak each time.

"I don' want ter make yeh an accomplice ter any illegal Magical Creature trade activity, so let's jus' say I don' have me Blast-Ended Skrewts no more n' now I got him."

"Why couldn't you have traded it for something cuddly?" whined Ron. "Like a Crumple-Horned Snorkack or something..."

"A Cookie-Crumbling Snowrat? What're you on about?"

"Crumple-Horned Snorkack," said Hermione. "Let's just say it's a rare creature."

"Well, Scorpy's mighty cuddly," said Hagrid. "C'mere you!"

Hagrid reached into the pen and grabbed Scorpagog as he passed by. Scorpagog's legs continued to move as if he were still walking, and Hagrid swept him into a hug while the four students backed several feet away.

"Ha-ga," said Scorpagog from Hagrid's arms while Hagrid placed him back in the pen.

"Oh, by the way," said Hagrid, reaching into one of his many pockets and withdrawing a gold-colored book and handing it to Harry. "Thought yeh migh' want a copy a' this. A Hufflepuff boy called Ernie brought it ter my attention durin' class."

Harry turned the book over and saw a picture of two youths driving a flying Ford Anglia in mid-air over a red steam engine.

"Harry Potter and the Flying Car," said Harry. "Join the adventures of ... blah, blah, blah ... WHAT? I am _not_ the heir of Slytherin!"

"You should have told me that," said Ginny with a grin, amidst the laughter of Ron and Hermione. "You know, I love it when you speak Parseltongue to me."

"Ohoho," said Hagrid, nudging Harry on the shoulder.

Ginny winked, and Harry widened his eyes, then chucked the book over his shoulder and approached Ginny, whispering a snakelike hiss. Behind him, Scorpagog had caught the book and taken it back to his log, perhaps for lunch.

"Too bad he can't speak it anymore," said Ron, prying himself between Harry and Ginny before they got too close. "Let's head back to the castle, shall we?"

* * *

Pillars of light shone down from the many windows of the Hogwarts Library, illuminating the hall so brightly that Harry, Ron and Hermione had to squint until their eyes adjusted to the light. They crossed the shiny wooden floor through one of the aisles between the numerous rows of high bookshelves in search of an open table. Hermione led them to her favorite table, beside a window that overlooked the Black Lake.

"Let's get started, then," said Hermione. She handed Harry and Ron borrowed copies of _Tricky Transfiguration Tips_ and _Transfigure Me This_. "Read up."

"But we don't have any Transfiguration homework," said Ron, cracking the heavy tome open. "Why all the unnecessary studying?"

"Because Professor Longbottom's class is no picnic," said Hermione. "There's simply no reason I should be the only person in class to accomplish human Transfiguration."

"I can do human Transfiguration!" protested Ron. "Well, sort of."

Ron was batted over the head with a folded _Daily Prophet_ by a passing Madam Pince, who made a harsh shushing noise as she glared at the trio.

"Just be quiet and study," said Hermione after Madam Pince was out of earshot. "Or she'll ask us to leave."

The trio sat there for hours perusing the old, tattered and giant books of the Library and passed through subjects from Transfiguration, to Potions, to Charms. When the sun had lowered just above the mountains to the west, and the evening approached, Harry and Ron had gone through three books, and Hermione had finished five.

"I've just had an idea," said Ron. He leaned out into the aisle and spotted Madam Pince.

"Hooray?" said Harry, raising a brow.

"_Muffliato!_" whispered Ron, prodding his wand towards Madam Pince's back. She looked up, alerted, but went back to organizing books after a moment.

"Ron! You're not supposed to do that!" admonished Hermione. "I'll not be a party to the use of that spell! It's - _it's Dark Magic!_"

"Well, at least when they chuck me in Azkaban for using Muffliato, the fourth Unforgivable Curse, there'll be no Dementors."

"Why did you do that anyway?" asked Harry.

"I wanted to ask you something. Ginny was being all gooey with you again today."

"I'd noticed, mate," said Harry, grinning wickedly. Ron narrowed his eyes. "What of it?"

"That's you two sorted, then, is it?"

"I don't know. I did tell Cho I was off to see Ginny, and she seemed to understand. Didn't have a fit or anything. She's actually a lot nicer now."

"Nicer?" asked Hermione. "You're not getting any ideas, are you?"

"No."

"Dumbledore warned you of this, you know," Hermione continued.

"What are you talking about?"

"He said there may come a time when you must choose between what is easy and what is right."

"Ha!" chuckled Ron.

"I wish you'd leave her alone," said Harry, turning a page of _Chronicles of Charming_.

"Please, mate, just go back to snogging my sister," said Ron. He winced at his own words. "Merlin, never thought I'd be saying that."

"Fine!" said Harry. He stood and gathered his books. "I'll just go tell Cho off even though she's been perfectly jolly to me, and I'll be sure to give Ginny a front-row seat."

"Might even get the bandits to install a few more megaphones so the whole school can hear." Harry threw the strap of his school bag over his shoulder. "Shouldn't be too hard to get her off my back, since everyone thinks I'm the bloody heir of Slytherin thanks to that stupid book."

Harry turned to storm off Harry Potter style, but Ron got to his feet and gripped Harry's elbow. "Can't leave now, mate, we've got the D.A."

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione returned the books they'd taken and made for the exit of the Library.

"Take that rook," said Ron to a young Hufflepuff girl who was playing Wizard's Chess with a seventh-year Ravenclaw boy.

"Thanks!" said the Hufflepuff.

The trio vaguely heard the Ravenclaw complain about a 'no coaching' rule when they walked out of the Library and took a right turn to the Charms corridor. Professor Flitwick offered them a short greeting before hobbling into his office.

At the end of the corridor, they pushed the double doors open and walked out into the Transfiguration Courtyard. On a bench near the white marble statue at the center of the courtyard, the Battle-Axe Bandits appeared to be trying to hustle the young Gryffindor Con Castle in a game of cards. By their disappointed sighs, Harry guessed they were unsuccessful.

After passing the courtyard, they entered the hallway that led to the Great Hall. Hermione stuck her head into the Great Hall to remind everyone of the impending D.A. meeting, then shuddered at the notion that there was once a point in the school's history only two years prior where this would have resulted in expulsion.

Harry shuddered as the Fat Friar passed through him on his way up the stairs; the experience of being overlapped by a ghost was like being submerged in icewater, with a chill that penetrates the flesh and touches the bones.

Harry, Ron and Hermione met Ginny outside the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side and entered with her. After opening the door to the Trapdoor Room with an utterance of 'Alohomora,' the quartet entered the room and eyed the trapdoor at its center. The three-headed dust golem that guarded the trapdoor rose to its full and blustering height and wrathfully charged the four Dumbledore's Army leaders, its heads whipping around wildly and its mouths chomping.

"Half-Blood Prince," said Ginny. The golem exploded before them in an avalanche of dust.

After jumping down the long chute and experiencing a magically softened landing, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny walked through the various underground chambers that were home to the teachers' trials that guarded the Philosopher's Stone. Upon entering the Chess Room, they observed two students standing atop the glowing white chessboard in the middle of the vast and cubical room.

"Alright, we can start now!" called Neville after spotting the other leaders of the D.A.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny scaled the chessboard and turned to face the crowd of Dumbledore's Army students who were watching the leaders attentively.

"Alright," said Harry. "Today, we'll actually be testing your knowledge of the material and your progress on the goals we set at the beginning of the year."

"No new stuff then?" asked Dean from the crowd. There was a massive sigh from the whole group when Harry shook his head.

"This is important," assured Hermione. "You'll thank us at the end of the year when you're all disarming with ease and casting full-bodied Patronuses."

The leaders of the D.A. circled the room, asking students to demonstrate their disarming and Patronus skills. A fair amount of students achieved acceptable results, and the rest merely needed minor improvement. Harry's smile grew with every successful demonstration; he took great pride in reaching the students of Hogwarts in a way few could during his previous school years.

Hermione recorded an account of the demonstrations, and all that remained after the final Patronus was cast was the seventh-years and returning seventh-years. One-by-one, the leaders invited them to the elevated checkered platform in the middle of the room and instructed them to execute a stable Infernum spell.

"Come on, Dennis. You can do this," said Harry as Dennis Creevey struggled to maintain his orb of flames. "_Concentrate!_"

Once Dennis' fireball was held in place for the requisite amount of time, it vanished and he slumped and sighed in relief before hopping down and receiving several pats on the back and congratulatory hoots from the army of students.

"That'll be all," said Harry. "Regarding the tournament: the next round is soon. As soon as I know the date, you will. You're all dismissed!"

After the sea of students piled through the exit and disappeared through the hallway, Harry turned to his fellow D.A. leaders, beaming.

"I'm impressed," said Harry. "They were great."

"Nothing to sneeze at," said Ron.

"All thanks to you, Professor Potter," said Hermione, grinning. "Better than most of the other Defense teachers I've-"

Hermione stopped mid-sentence and stared off in a seldom-traversed corner of the room that was obscured by the chessboard. Harry, Ron, and Ginny walked over to Hermione's vantage point and stopped in their tracks as well. Off in the corner hidden by the chessboard, in the sky blue light of the glowing platform, Neville and Luna were gripping each other in a tight embrace, joined at the lips.

"You can do this, Nev," said the portrait of the teen with jagged teeth and spiky black hair. "Concentrate! Grab her bum!"

"Shut up," mumbled Neville, giving the portrait a vulgar hand gesture. Luna appeared to have taken the portrait's advice; she groped Neville's rear and elicited a surprised squeak.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny left the chessroom to the eager new couple and the jeering portrait.


	18. Yet Another Canine Quidditch Fan

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

Neville Longbottom lazily stepped down the stairs from the Boys' Dormitory to find the students of the Gryffindor Common Room indulging in their usual festivity. Several fifth-years were grouped together by the armchairs near the fire to have their picture taken by the eager portrait of Colin Creevey. Games of Exploding Snap and Wizard's Chess were being played on the tables by the window, emitting the occasional victorious cheer.

Neville rubbed his knuckles against his murky eyes then yawned into his palm while making his way across the Common Room to the notice board near the door. Notices were rarely placed on the board and even more rarely removed; there was still a page of parchment advertising positions as Weasley's Wizard Wheezes test subjects, though for all Neville knew, that could have been new.

Neville kneeled down on one knee and pulled the leg of his trousers up to expose his shin, and received a wolf-whistle from the nearby portrait of Fred Weasley. Neville carried his wand in a leather holster around his ankle; his grandmother, a champion duelist, recommended the tactic based on personal experience. He withdrew his wand from its holster and also a page of parchment from his pocket.

Neville raked the tip of his wand across the back of the parchment, shutting his eyes tightly to focus on accomplishing the nonverbal Permanent Sticking Charm. Neville held the parchment up to the window, confirming the success of the charm by its glittery sparkle in the light of the cloudy sky. Smiling at his own handiwork, he nodded to a watchful first-year, as if to say, 'that's how it's done.'

Neville posted the parchment next to the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes bill; the bill was a relic of the legend of Fred and George, and there was a good chance it would not be overlapped any time soon, whether it was because of the respect Fred's memory commanded among students both new and old, or fear of incurring the wrath of George and his Bandit minions.

After flattening the page of parchment over the board and smoothing out the wrinkles, several young students bunched up behind him to inspect it. It was a bulletin for the next round of the Dumbledore's Army Dueling Tournament, which was to take place after the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Neville squeezed through the gathering of students and made his way back towards the Boys' Dormitory. Along the way, a smudge of bright orange in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he turned to face the portrait of Fred Weasley, who was watching the levity of the Common Room with a bored expression and a longing in his eye. Neville searched his mind for a reason to talk to Fred's portrait, and a pressing issue quickly popped into his head.

"Fred," said Neville, approaching and sitting cross-legged before the door-sized portrait of Fred. "Could I ask for some advice?"

"Ah, Nev, my good man," said Fred, giving a knowing and grateful smile. "To what subject shall this advice pertain?"

"Girls."

"You've come to the right place. Girls, those fascinating creatures, are a field of inquiry of which I am very knowledgeable."

"This is about Luna Lovegood."

"Speaking of fascinating creatures..."

"Hey!" Neville growled. "Don't make me get Peeves to draw you up a beard."

"Go right ahead. I've got a date with Theresa the Temptress over in the Charms Corridor in the portrait of the tree by the lake, and, judging by the portraits, everyone had a beard in her time."

Neville grinned.

"So what's your problem with Luna?" continued Fred.

"I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do," said Neville.

"Ask my father to give you 'the talk.' That worked out wonders for us. Percy being the exception, of course."

"I meant in general. I can never tell if I'm doing well or not. She smiles a lot, but never really takes any interest in the stuff girls usually like."

"She smiles a lot?" asked Fred, looking horrified. "You're crashing and burning, big time."

"I am?"

"No, you buffoon. Do you smile when you aren't happy?"

"Oh. What I mean is, if I, y'know, kiss her, sometimes she won't react or she'll say 'that's nice,' and I don't know what to make of that."

"Don't you see, Neville? You've reached a level once thought unreachable: you've stumbled upon a girl who actually says exactly what she means. If she smiles and says 'that's nice,' it means she liked it. Some other girl might be lying for your benefit - I know I would - and you'd have to decipher it like some Ancient Runes scroll."

"But Ron said -"

"Forget what Ron says," interrupted Fred quickly. "About any subject at any time of any day."

"Alright." Neville snorted. "Also, she's a bit ... forward, sometimes."

"Lucky you."

"No, not lucky me! She kissed me for the first time at the last D.A. meeting and she's already grabbing stuff and using tongue."

"I'm not seeing the problem here."

"Well, it's unusual, and it's pressure, and -"

"Oh, no, Nev." Fred clutched at his heart. "Is that evil girl corrupting you?"

"Fine, I'll just match her, then. But she can't complain if I grab stuff too."

"That's the spirit. Wait, did you say she kissed you? She started it? Well then you've got to show some initiative now."

"Nothing wrong with that, mate," said a yawning Ron as he stepped down the stairs from the Boys' Dormitory, followed by Harry and Dean. "Hermione did the same thing and we're doing great."

"You could have been doing great years ago," said Fred. "But you had to wait until she came to you."

"Not my fault." Ron scratched his stomach and yawned loudly without covering his mouth. "I'm not easy, you know."

Dean, Fred and Harry snorted, and Neville stood, armed with a bit more conviction than he had when he first stepped into the Common Room that day. He strode out of the Common Room without another word and made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Once there, he chomped on pancakes and bacon at the Gryffindor table, looking around for any sign of a blonde mane, perhaps over a pair of Spectrespecs.

Across from him, at the Hufflepuff table, Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley were addressing a small crowd of first and second-years that contained students from every House. Justin was smiling, as usual, until he watched Ernie slam his fist down on the Hufflepuff table angrily, causing Ernie's plate to pop up in the air and land face-down on Justin's.

"I'll have you little swots know, I am a good friend of Harry Potter!" yelled Ernie as Justin attempted to scrape Ernie's hashbrowns off of his waffle. "I've saved the man's life, and he's saved mine! I don't care about the purity of my blood!"

"But it says right here that you told Harry your blood was as pure as anyone's."

"I know what I said." Ernie looked back at the mess of eggs and hashbrowns on the table. "Justin, if you wanted some, you could have just asked."

Justin narrowed his eyes, Neville sniggered and Ernie turned back to the students and continued, "I was trying to save my own skin. After Harry and Ron went down in that chamber with nothing but one and a half wands, that useless codger Lockhart, and an iron resolve, I was inspired."

The young students were captivated by Ernie's tale, and his proud, booming tone of voice.

"When they came back," said Ernie, standing up and gathering his things in his bag. "Harry had slain the Basilisk and had Ron defeated Lockhart in what he tells me was an epic duel that lasted nearly an hour, and I decided right then and there that I'd do what's right, work hard - clean this up, will you, Justin? - and honor my House."

"Blood means nothing," added Justin. "I'm quite proud to be a Muggleborn. Ever hear of Hermione Granger?"

The students presented their copies of Harry Potter and the Flying Car, opening it to an illustration of Hermione on the back. Anger bubbled in Neville's stomach when he saw it; it was less than flattering.

"Yeah, well, she's probably the most skilled witch this school has ever seen. Compare that to a pureblood, like, say..." Justin hesitated for a second.

Neville gulped, fully expecting to hear his name come out of Justin's mouth.

"Zacharias Smith," said Justin. "He's related to Hepzibah Smith, isn't he? Direct descendant of Helga Hufflepuff. Total fool."

"That little miscreant didn't even fight in the Battle of Hogwarts," said Ernie. "Justin, let's go. It's Quidditch soon."

After breakfast, Neville continued his morning ritual of meeting his grandmother in her office, but found that she was still asleep, as it was the weekend. Neville continued through the Transfiguration Courtyard, making his way towards Ravenclaw Tower. After greeting a passing Padma Patil, Neville spotted the object of his morning discussion with Fred walking barefoot through a small corridor that led to the Greenhouses.

"Luna!" said Neville, jogging over to her. She turned to face him. "Hi."

"Oh, hello, Neville."

Neville looked down at her chest, spotting a yellow pendant with a smiley face drawn onto it.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing to it.

"It's a Jollity Pendant. It brings joy to those around you."

"Oh. With a Cheering Charm?"

"With the power of suggestion."

"Did someone take your shoes again?"

"No, they've stopped doing that now. I suppose they're intimidated. I woke up in the Kitchens without them; I sleep walk, you see."

"Oh," said Neville. He glanced around, breathing irregularly out of nervousness. "Luna, do you want to go in that empty classroom?"

"To kiss?"

"Y-Yes."

"Oh, yes, I'd like to."

Neville followed her into the classroom and was reminded once again of the dreary conditions when he spotted the heavily clouded sky through one of the classroom's windows. The sky looked on the verge of rain.

"Bad Quidditch conditions," remarked Neville, gesturing towards the window.

"I think it'll help Gryffindor win today." Luna smiled. Whether she was staring at him or the sky behind him, Neville couldn't tell.

"Why do you say that?"

"The Slytherin team doesn't practice in the rain, does it?"

"Yeah, you're right," said Neville, grinning wickedly. "The brats. Can't get mud on their precious Slytherin robes, can they? It'll be their undoing."

"Perhaps. I'd like to kiss now."

"Oh!" Neville's cheeks burned red. "Right..."

"It'll have to be quick, though, I've got to go talk about Quidditch during the match."

Neville timorously approached Luna, who was sitting on a desk that was tall enough so that her feet dangled in the air and she was at eye level. She puckered her lips and closed her eyes long before he reached her, and Neville smirked a bit before resting his hands on the desk and moving forward to press his lips to hers. When they touched, she wrapped her arms around him, constricting his arms at his sides, so that he leaned against her awkwardly.

Following Fred's advice, he tried to show initiative; he grabbed areas of Luna that he once thought were off-limits to him, and was the first to involve tongue. He soon learned that he could get away with nearly anything, as she'd stood up from the desk just to give him more access. When Neville's fingertips brushed over a groove in the desk, he glanced down to examine it, and saw that someone's initials had been carved into the wood.

"B.A.B.?" asked Neville as Luna licked his cheek thoroughly.

"This is probably the desk of Sherman Roque," she replied.

"Oh."

"Quidditch is soon. We'll have to go."

Neville pouted, but agreed, and followed her out into the corridor.

"So, have you ever had a boyfriend before?" asked Neville as they walked, staring at the ground. "Just wondering."

"No." Luna smiled. "Though I did kiss a boy once, when I was eight, to see what it was like. I was unimpressed."

"Same for me. Never had a girlfriend, but I have kissed a girl once, though I was fourteen."

"Was it at school?"

"Yeah. After the Yule Ball."

"Oh. Who was it?"

"Er - Ginny," said Neville. "Don't tell Ron."

"Oh." Luna frowned. "But why?"

"She was my date to the ball," said Neville, with an apologetic look. "It went well, so I thought I should. She stopped me and said she just wanted to be friends, and I agreed."

"Oh, that makes sense," said Luna. "I suppose I won't have to be angry with her."

* * *

"It's the last one we'll play at Hogwarts," said Harry. "Let's make it a good one."

The hollering agreement of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team echoed through the small locker room as the armored, scarlet-robed group raised their brooms in the air. Harry turned to the group, his frame blackened by the light at the end of the tunnel behind him. He could only vaguely see the outlines of his team in the dark and grimy locker room.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, they've got Zabini at Beater to fill in for Crabbe, and he's actually a lot better," said Harry. "Demelza, I want you bothering him the entire time. You're the only one who can get close enough. Can't you?"

"They can't hit me," replied Demelza Robins.

"Ron, I want you keeping a lookout for their Beaters as well, because they will try to attack you."

"Not too worried. This Gunboot guy's armor is superb. Remember when I took that Bludger to the head versus Ravenclaw?"

"There's just nothing up there to damage," said Ginny. Pointed laughter ensued.

"Oi!"

"Ginny, Dean, it should only take the two of you to handle Bletchley, but if you need help from Demelza, just say so."

"Ten-four, boss." Ginny saluted. Harry grinned.

"Ritchie, Jimmy, don't worry about Malfoy. He couldn't catch a Snitch if it floated by his ear and said hello - I know because that happened - concentrate on their Chasers and don't be afraid to play dirty yourselves. Let's go, guys!"

Harry spearheaded the march through the long tunnel, trying to clear his mind of the knowledge that he'll never walk out of this locker room again, that he'll never play Quidditch for Gryffindor again, and never again see McGonagall's face light up in a rare break from her stony emotionless mask after a victory.

Similarly to how Hagrid was his first real friend, and how the magical world saved him from life as a nobody, Quidditch saved him from mediocrity at a time when he was learning more every day about what was expected of him. Much like Hedwig was his connection to the Magical World whenever he was made to live with the Dursleys, Quidditch stayed with him wherever he went. It affected how he viewed the world. Harry supposed Fred, George, and Ron, lifelong Quidditch fans, were better tacticians for it.

Before Harry knew it, he was in the air, and Madam Hooch's whistle was blown, signaling the start of the game. Harry hovered above the field, watching the Slytherin team form into position as a cohesive unit. Their Hawk Formation strategy was effective; it often became difficult to tell Beater from Chaser, though the blonde streak of Malfoy's hair identified him immediately as the Seeker.

The sky was a dark smoky gray, with a large scar of white slashed within it, and soon the first drops of rain fell onto the field. It didn't take long before the beads of water pelted the players and the stands, and the wind picked up and began rippling cloaks around and affecting the trajectory of the Quaffle. Without the sun, any Seeker would have trouble catching the Snitch.

As Harry searched the gloomy skies for the tiniest flicker of gold, he heard Luna Lovegood's magically magnified voice, which floated through the Quidditch Pitch in its soothing tone: "They're singing that song again."

Sure enough, the Gryffindors and Slytherins were combat-singing their own versions of _Weasley Is Our King_ at each other.

"That's Warringbert with the Quaffle - oops - Warrington," announced Luna. "He throws it at the short hoop - oh! Good one, Ron!"

Ron would continue to guard the goalposts adequately. He wasn't smacking Quaffles away left and right, but he was blocking more than he let past. Harry surveyed his team and saw Demelza continue her harassment of the Slytherin Beaters, Blaise Zabini and Gregory Goyle. It was true: she simply could not be hit with a Bludger. Ginny and Dean were operating smoothly without any concern of Bludgers as well.

"That's Demelza flying in circles around that Slytherin Beater. Perhaps she's in love? Ginny's got the Quaffle now. She throws it - oh - it's blocked. It's raining quite hard now. Look at the hills, just out there, you might see an Aquapath!"

Harry then saw Malfoy break into an upward climb, and saw a speck of black just above him. Harry zoomed through the Pitch, weaving through players, Bludgers and the Quaffle to pull up by Malfoy's side, his eyes glued to the Snitch. Then, he felt a force hit his side as Malfoy attempted to ram him off his broom. In retalliation, Harry gripped the end of Malfoy's new Nimbus Millennium Five and swerved it downwards, sending Malfoy head-first into the Ravenclaw stands.

"The Malfoy boy's crashed into the stands. He's not very nice - I hope Terry gives him a kick in the - oh, Harry Potter has seen the Snitch. He'll be chasing it now."

Harry ascended in pursuit of the flying Snitch as it climbed through the air and took several sharp, zig-zagging turns and swerves to avoid him. As he passed the Gryffindor stands, he noticed something odd in the very back of the stands, at the highest point. It was the brown eyes and black-and-tan spotted fur of the hyena, as it fixed its stony stare at Harry. Harry raised his hand to point to the animal, hoping someone might catch it, or at least witness it.

As the distracted Harry cruised through the air, having lost the trail of the Snitch, he wasn't aware of the oncoming Bludger until it was too late. The Bludger's path curled up from under Harry, knocking into his chin. Harry could feel his head rattling and see his vision fading into a dark haze, until there was only blackness.

Harry opened his eyes to see the blurred but familiar ceiling of the Hospital Wing. He groped at a bedside table in search of his spectacles, but found nothing. Soon, the clouded figure of a young girl leaned over Harry's bed and slid his glasses over his face. He blinked to adjust his eyes, expecting to see a bushy head of hair or perhaps a vibrant orange one, but instead saw the blonde locks and concerned face of Demelza Robins.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked, wringing her hands together. "Oh, it's all my fault! I let up for one second to handle the Quaffle and - I'm sorry!"

"It happens, Demelza," said Harry. He sat up to see his friends piling into the Hospital Wing and bunching up by his bed. "It was the hyena. It was in the Gryffindor stands. It distracted me."

"I've got to tell McGonagall," said Hermione. She swept Harry in a tight hug and jogged off through the door.

"So how'd we do?" asked Harry, rubbing his forehead.

"Dennis filled in at Chaser and I took over at Seeker," said Ginny. "And he was great! We won!"

"Really?" Harry looked around at the grinning faces of his team. "Where's Dennis now?"

"He's up in the Common Room," said Jimmy Peakes. "He's sort of become an instant hero. He scored the most points of anyone, excluding the Seeker."

"I have a name, you know," said Ginny. Jimmy shrugged.

"So there you have it," said Ron. "Your captaincy was a smashing success. Your work is done. Your life is complete."

"Where's Neville?" asked Harry, grinning. His team smiled.

"I think he went Snorkack watching." Ron winked. "He was here earlier though."

"All right, everyone! Out!" Madam Pomfrey began pushing the students towards the door with several prods to the back. "Out, now! Potter needs his rest!"

"Oh, come on, Poppy," said Harry. Madam Pomfrey widened her eyes for a second. "At least get Hagrid in here."

"Righ' here, Harry!" called Hagrid as he ducked through the doorway. "'Lo, Poppy!"

"I'd appreciate it if you addressed me as 'Madam Pomfrey,' Potter," she replied, before walking off to her office. "You've got fifteen minutes!"

"Not everyone likes the firs' name thing," said Hagrid as he arrived beside Harry's bed. "Don' go callin' me Rubeus or nothin' either."

"I won't." Harry smiled. "Say, could I have a sausage?"

"I don' carry those anymore. Not after me coat's bin' infested with bugs."

"Oh."

"So I heard the next round o' the tournament's comin' up. When do yeh need me ter referee?"

"Actually, Professor Longbottom's going to referee, but you're free to come spectate. It's next Saturday."

"Don' mind if I do." Hagrid smiled.

"Go on, now! Time's up!" called Madam Pomfrey. "Out! Potter, get some rest!"

* * *

"S.P.E.W."

The menacing dirt monster exploded, showering dust over the six leaders of Dumbledore's Army. With exceptional reflexes, Professor Augusta Longbottom pointed her wand to the ceiling, producing a shield charm that formed a forcefield around the students, protecting them from the sandy cloud.

"Nice one," remarked Ron as Hermione opened the trapdoor.

"Thank you, dear," replied Professor Longbottom. "Down here?"

"Yes, Professor," said Hermione. "Like this."

Hermione hopped into the seemingly bottomless hole, followed by Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna. Neville stayed behind to watch the hard stone landing area to make sure his grandmother arrived safely. When Professor Longbottom hovered to the ground, her landing softened by the Cushioning Charm, she began walking at a brisk pace without missing a beat.

When they arrived, they found the Chess Room as bright as it'd ever been, thanks to a new addition in the form of hundreds of plain white wax candles floating in mid-air near the ceiling of the vast chamber. Hagrid could be seen throwing back a pitcher-sized mug of butterbeer with Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Dennis Creevey chatting and laughing brightly by his side. Neville, Luna and Ginny went over to investigate the new refreshments table.

"Who put the candles up?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "I couldn't find any information on that charm in the library. I wanted to use it for the D.A. meetings."

"It was Minerva," said Professor Longbottom. She looked rather bored.

"Minerva?" squeaked Ron nervously. "As in ... Minerva McGonagall?"

"How many people named Minerva do you know, Ron?" asked Hermione, smirking.

"B-But..."

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," said a shrill voice from behind the group. Ron and Harry glanced at each other in shock then turned to face the headmistress.

"We were going to tell you!" said Ron automatically. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

"Wait," said Hermione. "You didn't tell the Headmistress?"

"No, Miss Granger, they did not." Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes at the two cowering boys, and Hermione imitated her. "Madam Pomfrey alerted me to the mysteriously high amount of students with dueling injuries, then Augusta mentioned she'd been asked to referee this ... this 'tournament.'"

"I suppose the jig is up?" asked Harry. To his surprise, he noticed the faintest hint of a grin forming on Professor McGonagall's thin lips.

"You are correct," she said. "So, Mr. Potter, when does this round start?"

"We can still go through with it?" asked Ron, smiling.

"Oh, I think so," said Professor McGonagall. "I believe you're required on stage now, aren't you?"

Harry and Ron grinned and climbed onto the glowing checkered stage, with Hermione following behind them, scowling. Her dirty look was made more sinister by the light from below. Harry called Neville, Luna and Ginny up to the stage before addressing the crowd of students and teachers.

"Welcome back to the Dumbledore's Army Dueling Tournament!" called Harry. There was a loud round of applause from the participants, and from the portrait of the spiky-haired teen.

"Oh, great, now everyone wants to be down 'ere," grumbled the jagged-toothed portrait. Beside him sat Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Fred Weasley and Colin Creevey.

"Albus!" said Harry. Dumbledore waved, and received an even bigger cheer than Harry.

"Please continue, Harry," said Dumbledore, smiling softly.

"Right. Well, we're going to be doing rounds two and three today," said Harry. "Should be quicker now that we've whittled it down to sixteen duelists. Ron will explain the rules."

"Alright," said Ron, stepping up to the front. "Basically you knock the other guy down and keep 'em down for ten seconds. You can stun them, body bind them, whatever, but that's how you win. No Dark crap and no Unforgivable Curses, a'course."

"The first match is between Dean Thomas and Terry Boot!" called Ginny.

The six leaders of Dumbledore's Army stepped down from the glowing platform and grabbed their butterbeers from the snacks table Hagrid had set up. Dean and Terry climbed onto the chessboard and waited for Professor Longbottom's whistle, then the curses flew. Terry had good technique, but couldn't stand up to Dean's raw magical power, as, in a collision, Dean's curses would win out.

"This was a great idea," said Ron, chomping down on a plate of chips and ketchup as Hermione stared at him, on the verge of laughter. "Good job, Hagrid."

"Oh, it was nothin'," said Hagrid. "I figure if I couldn' be the ref, I migh' as well do somethin'."

"Mr. Weasley fixed Sirius's bike and gave it to me," said Harry. "Did you know?"

"That's great, Harry!" said Hagrid. "Don' suppose yeh'd mind if I borrowed it from time to time?"

"Not at all," said Harry. "What's mine is yours. You know that."

"What about m-"

"Not a chance, Ron," said Harry, without taking his eyes from the duel between Dennis Creevey and Romilda Vane. "Hermione, you're up, if I'm not mistaken."

"Hermione Granger and Seamus Finnegan!" called Ginny from beside the table.

Hermione received a peck on the cheek from Ron and climbed onto the chessboard to stand opposite Seamus. Approximately three seconds after the whistle blew, Seamus found himself face-down on the floor somewhere out-of-bounds, his hair and robes twisted and ruffled by Hermione's nonverbal stunner.

"Don't think he even knew I was attacking," said Hermione with a smile as she returned to a clapping Hagrid and amazed Ron and Harry. "I do hope he's all right."

"You are a disgrace!" said the spiky-haired teen from his portrait, looking down at Seamus who had been thrown before him. "Get up, you great jester!"

Beside the teen, Snape was offering the quietest of golf-claps while Dumbledore was applauding as loud as he could to make up for it.

As the day rolled on into the afternoon, Ron observed that the room was actually filling, despite the losers sent to the Hospital Wing. By the end of the second round, someone had conjured several benches that functioned as stands for the growing audience. The final eight were set: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Ernie Macmillan and Neville Longbottom.

"Harry Potter versus Luna Lovegood!" called Ginny, reading from the bracket on the wall.

Harry stepped up the newly-constructed stairs onto the glowing chessboard, and turned to face a blank-looking Luna Lovegood who had done the same. Harry gripped his wand firmly; this was his first real challenge of the tournament. Luna could withstand physical pain like no other, and, when Confunded, her actions actually tended to make more sense.

"I hope you'll have fun," said Luna, with a small smile.

"Yeah..." Harry braced himself for the whistle.

Professor Longbottom's whistle chirped, and the two D.A. leaders mobilized at once. Harry was advanced enough to achieve a nonverbal Expelliarmus, at the expense of weakening the spell. As such, he elected to speak the incantation, as everybody knew which spell he was going to do anyway.

"_Expelliarmus!_" cried Harry, swishing and flicking his wand towards Luna.

Luna swayed the slightest bit, dodging the blast so closely that Harry wondered why her wand wasn't flying through the air. Luna retalliated nonverbally, in the form of a rapid-fire burst of sparking white blasts. Harry was unable to avoid the onslaught completely, and laughed riotously as he was hit by Luna's Tickling Hex.

Struggling to maintain his composure quickly, Harry whipped his wand towards Luna's feet and shouted, "_R-R-Reducto!_ Hahaha!"

Luna jumped to avoid the curse, but not high enough, as the ground beneath her cracked and quaked with the strength of the blast, and she was sent backwards by its shockwave. Momentarily downed, she was unable to recover in time to evade Harry's finishing stunner. After her body absorbed the flash of ruby, she wasn't able to get up during Professor Longbottom's ten-count.

"Potter wins!" called Professor Longbottom.

The crowd erupted in applause as Harry approached Luna, who had been brought back to consciousness by a frowning Neville Longbottom and was climbing down the chessboard.

"All right, Luna?" said Harry.

"Oh, yes," said Luna. "That was a strong Reductor."

"Good job, Harry," said Ron. "Who's next, Gin?"

"Me." Ginny walked up the stairs, leaving the others to check the bracket for her opponent.

"Me?" said Neville. Ginny nodded and gestured for him to climb the chessboard.

Neville crawled atop the large checkered platform and was illuminated from below by its cyan aura. He squeezed his wand so hard his hand trembled, as were his knees. He gulped, and looked to his grandmother, then back to Ginny, waiting for the whistle. Ginny smiled confidently and took a combative stance.

The whistle shrieked.

"_STUPEFY!_"

The sound of the whistle had not yet faded when Neville whipped his wand in a large swoop, sending a bright red beam in Ginny's direction, but it veered off course and crashed into the room's far wall, exploding in a puff of dust and crumbling debris. Ginny flicked her wand in a more precise stroke, smacking Neville's wand with an accurate Disarming spell, but Neville's death-grip on his wand was so tight that it only jerked slightly.

"_STUPEFY!_"

In an overhand swing, Neville threw another brilliant scarlet flash that once again missed its mark and collided with the refreshment table off to the side and sent splashes of butterbeer and chocolate frogs into the audience. Ginny gracefully stepped forward and sent another precise shot at Neville's wand, but it missed as Neville was still swinging his wand wildly.

"_STUPEFY!_"

This time, Neville swung his wand so hard it flung out of his hand, and went soaring into Ginny's eye. She stumbled over, placing her hand over her wounded eye, while Neville hurried to retrieve his wand. Ginny rose to her feet at the same time Neville picked his wand off the ground, and they sent identical red curses that hit each other at the same time. Neville's arms shot to his sides and he stood still, while Ginny fell to the ground lifelessly, unable to stand during the ten-count.

"Winner, Neville Longbottom!" said Professor Longbottom with a proud smirk.

"Remind me not to use Petrificus Totalus," said Ron as the duelists were revived and checked for wounds.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," said Neville as they stepped down from the board. "I didn't mean to. It slipped."

"It's okay, Neville," said Ginny, laughing lightly. One of her eyes was red. "It was a duel."

Ginny walked over to the chalkboard that displayed the bracket and turned to the audience.

"Hermione Granger against Ernie Macmillan!"

"Good luck, Hermione," said Harry. She smiled and received another peck from Ron before climbing the board beside Ernie.

"May the best duelist win," said Ernie, bowing. Hermione bowed in return, though they didn't break eye contact.

"She's so cute when she gets that little trying-to-be-mean face," said Ron to a chuckling Harry. "If only she knew how to recreate her seriously-bloody-angry face."

The whistle sounded, and Ernie began to strafe left and right quickly, ducking and shifting like a boxer. His movements were hard to track, as Hermione's myriad of spread-fire stunners barely grazed him. It was no secret why Ernie made it to the top eight; he was a very quick draw and his strategy of using minor spells nonverbally instead of using heavy-duty spells and speaking the incantations had thusfar been a success.

Hermione was able to produce a Shield Charm so powerful that Ernie's minor hexes made no dents in the magical forcefield. Slightly annoyed, Ernie started speaking the incantations, concentrating on raw power.

"_Levicorpus!_" cried Ernie, but Hermione had parried the attack with another Shield Charm and retalliated with more red blasts.

Harry frowned as he saw something odd. Ernie's back was beginning to twinkle like glitter in the light of the chessboard. Neville grinned inexplicably at the sight.

"_Incarcerous!_" shouted Hermione, pointing her wand to Ernie's feet.

Several white ropes appeared out of thin air and bound Ernie's ankles together. He was quick to undo the spell, but found that he couldn't stand, as his clothes were stuck to the floor. Hermione clutched a stitch in her side borne of constant dodging and running, and smiled triumphantly as Professor Longbottom began the ten-count.

"Sticking Charm," said Ron. "That's why his clothes were all sparkly. Didn't see her apply it, though. She's good."

"Watch out!" cried a voice from the audience.

"Hey, no coaching!" said a familiar Ravenclaw.

Hermione ducked, barely avoiding a red ray of light that grazed her shoulder. She turned to see Ernie firing more blasts at her, dressed only in his blue-and-white striped boxers, his clothes left ripped on the floor. Hermione reacted quickly, shielding herself from Ernie's barrage.

"_Woo!_" whistled Fred from the spiky-haired teen's portrait. "Nice boxers, Ern!"

Exhausted, Hermione leapt aside, evading another of Ernie's jinxes, and whipped her wand at him in mid-air, hitting him directly in his bare chest with a flash of red that made him crumple over and faint.

"Winner, Hermione Granger!" called Professor Longbottom after the count.

The audience was wild with cheer when Hermione rejoined the other leaders of Dumbledore's Army and Ernie headed back to the Hufflepuff Common Room with his ripped clothes in his hands.

"You were amazing!" said Ron. "Can't believe you got that Sticking Charm off!"

"Thanks, Ron," said Hermione, breathing heavily. She kissed him on the lips briefly. "Good luck."

"Good luck?" asked Ron.

"Ron Weasley versus Draco Malfoy!" shouted Ginny. Ron grinned wickedly.

"Won't need it."

Ron stepped onto the chessboard and stood opposite Malfoy, who wore his trademark sneer. Ron was grinning widely when he drew his wand and took his stance. Soon, the whistle blew, and curses were flying left and right. In a competitive duel, Ron didn't know the meaning of the incantation 'Protego.' His strategy consisted solely of attack, and the constant pressure of his stunners was defending him well enough.

Ron's mind raced as he and Malfoy circled the board, firing curses back and forth. 'Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories,' Ron recited in his head. 'He'll probably conjure snakes.'

Sure enough, Draco had begun to conjure large boa constrictors which slithered around the board, their slit-like pupils focused on the fleeing Ron. 'Feign inferiority and encourage his arrogance.' Ron acted out the part of the coward, faking a terrified yelp and retreating to a corner of the board.

Ron recognized the snake tactic as another element of war described in Sun Tzu's fascinating book, which Hermione had given him for Christmas. Malfoy was multiplying his forces by fire, preserving the economy of supply and conscious thought. Itching in the back of Ron's mind was the question of how to get rid of the snakes.

As conjuring such a large and strong animal was difficult magic, Malfoy was visibly fatigued. His spells got sloppy, but he could afford it, as Ron was being cornered by the deadly snakes.

"Transfigure them!" shouted Hermione, cupping her hands by her mouth for added volume.

"_No coaching!_" whined the nearby seventh-year Ravenclaw. Ginny offered him a smack on the top of the head, and he pouted.

"_Fera Verto!_" Ron shouted the first Transfiguration spell that came to mind. A nearby boa was turned into a giant silver watergoblet nearly as tall as Ron's waist. "_Fera Verto!_"

Soon, goblets and snakes were scattered across the board, and the two duelists had shifted their focus back on each other. Ron continued his assault with rapid-fire stunners, lighting up the walls of the Chess Room with waves of orange light, which Malfoy would block with a Shield Charm. Malfoy stepped forward to counterattack.

"_Expelliarmus!_" shouted Malfoy, the shadows from below giving his face a gaunt and furious look.

The spell connected with Ron's chest and sent him flying backwards, his wand sent through the air and into the crowd. Ron got up to his knees, reeling from the force of the slam and struggling to catch the breath that was just forced from his lungs. Malfoy approached with a pronounced smirk.

"Not smiling now, are you, weasel?" he said, and the Slytherins in the crowd howled with laughter. "Any last words? Anything to say for your pathetic self?"

Ron found himself wandless and breathless, staring at the chessboard below, which had not lost its magical glow.

"Gobrr," breathed Ron. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Goblet to D-5."

"Whatever," said Malfoy. "_Stupe-_"

Just then, Malfoy was pushed aside by one of the giant silver watergoblets Ron had Transfigured from a snake, which had nudged Malfoy away to claim the square he was standing on. After glancing at the distraction, Malfoy turned to see Ron's fist getting bigger and bigger until it collided with his nose. Ron quickly shuffled over Malfoy, taking his wand and blasting him point-blank with a charge of red light that left him limp and lifeless for the entirety of Professor Longbottom's ensuing ten-count.

"Weasley wins!" she announced after finishing the count.

Ron slumped and hobbled off of the board, trying to pass off his limp as a triumphant swagger. Harry handed him his wand as Hermione nursed his scraped knuckles.

"Ron," said Albus Dumbledore from the spiky-haired teenager's portrait. Ron approached, rubbing his throbbing hand. "What, might I ask, did you just do?"

"Punched him," said Ron. "It's allowed, sir."

"No, with the goblet," said Dumbledore.

"Oh. Well, I thought since the chessboard still lights up maybe it was still enchanted to play chess. It was a longshot, but it's all I had."

"To think, you asked why you were made Head Boy," said Dumbledore, smiling. Ron's ears grew red, and Harry clapped Ron's back supportively, while Hermione beamed. "Few have such talents."


	19. The Last Marauder

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

"Gilbert the Grammarless?"

"Oh, now I'm sure tellin' you."

"I'll put a good word in for you with Theresa the Temptress." Harry waggled his eyebrows. "What do you say?"

"You fink she's gunna listen to a flesh-n-bone like you?" replied the spiky-haired teen. "Sounds like a load o' conch to me."

"What about..." Harry looked around the spacious room for inspiration, but saw only the giant chessboard. The candles and torches were unlit, leaving the room illuminated only by the glow of the enchanted platform.

"There's something what might help," said the portrait. "Me new friend, Fred the Dead, he's bin' a bit mossed 'bout his sister. She's bin' comin' to him at night, real upset, 'bout you."

"I thought that was worked out," said Harry, adjusting his glasses nervously, fearing the prospect of getting on Fred's bad side, especially with the Bandits at his disposal.

"You thought wrong, then, didn't you?"

"What do I have to do?"

"Well quit follymongerin' and make it right. I ain't a medicine man, I just knows that women need some things to be said."

"But Cho—"

"_Fack_ Cho," said the portrait simply. "I've seen that bird n' she ain't got half the chest like Fred's sister. That's just between you n' me, by the way."

"Fine, I'll do it," said Harry, exhaling a sigh. "_Now_ you'll tell me who you are?"

The painted wizard looked downwards, and Harry followed his gaze to see a golden plaque forming on the lower part of his frame, with letters neatly engraved onto it, that read: _Merlin._

"No," said Harry. "That can't be."

"'Tis." Merlin smiled, revealing his crooked yellow teeth. "Go on, now, you got a job to get done."

"Nobody's going to believe me when I tell them," said Harry, still staring at the plaque.

"Good. You think I enjoy hearin' people goin on about my clothes all the time?"

"I can assure you I won't be doing that anymore," said Harry as he made briskly for the exit.

Judging by the face of the clocktower, Harry knew the midnight hour was upon him when he exited the D.A. chambers. He crept through the halls like a phantom, unseen under his Invisibility Cloak. He kept an eye on his Marauder's Map for good measure, and was sure to avoid the blip of Mrs. Norris, who appeared to be chasing Peeves through the Charms corridor on the other side of the school.

His path to the Gryffindor common room took him through a dark corridor by the entrance hall, lit only by squares of moonlight shining through the windows of hallways that led to empty classrooms. It was completely quiet but for the ruffling of Harry's cloak and the snores of slumbering portraits scattered along the castle walls, until a distressed yelp sounded from within one of the classrooms.

Harry stood straight with a start, then quickly drew his wand and barreled through the door to the classroom to investigate the noise. In the dark room he saw a tall figure standing in front of a desk. On the desk sat another figure, who was doing a sort of jig.

"Who's there?" demanded Ron.

"It's me," said Harry. He whipped the cloak off of himself and placed it on a nearby desk. "What are you doing here?"

Ron looked away, his ears turning red. Harry widened his eyes.

"On second thought," said Harry, holding back his laughter. "Don't tell me."

"I'm stuck," said Hermione, her cheeks pink. She was still wiggling to remove herself from the desk.

"Wait a minute," said Harry, approaching the desk and reading the familiar carving. "I know this desk."

"You do?" Ron examined the carving as well. "What's B.A.B.?"

"Battle-Axe Bandits," said Hermione. "This must be that stupid Bandit Balm rubbish."

"Butt-Binding Balm," corrected Ron. Hermione scowled. "Sorry, it's a habit. George's gone and conditioned me to advertise the shop as much as possible."

"But why on earth would a person put it on their desk?" asked Hermione.

"Because," said a voice from the doorway. Harry, Ron and Hermione whipped their heads around to see four Hufflepuff first-years enter the classroom.

"My desk is not a cheap motel," continued Roque. "And that goes for you too, Potter!"

Ron made a lurching noise. "You and Ginny used this desk?"

"For hours, I'd wager," said Blackboot, grinning. "Until we came along."

"That was you?" growled Harry, indignant. "I was finally going to get—er..."

"Oh, Ginevra the Gorgeous," said Munky in a comically deep voice. "Come with me to the prefects' bathroom. 'Tis a good place to take a bath, my love."

"You..." Ron stared at Harry with a horrified expression.

"I'll just leave you to it, then," said Harry quickly. He flung the Invisibility Cloak over his body and scampered off, barely escaping Ron's grasp.

"_Potter!_" shouted Ron into the hallway, waking several portraits. "I know where you sleep, you little—_argh!_"

"I'd really like to get off this desk," said Hermione, annoyed.

"Six hours," said Roque. "Next time it'll be spikes. Stay off my desk."

He marched out of the classroom and off towards the Hufflepuff basement, followed by his fellow Bandits.

"This desk belongs to the school!" Hermione called after them. "I'm beginning to see your point," she said as Ron approached and sat on the desk in front of her after checking it for balm.

"Not for six hours, you're not," said Ron wistfully. Hermione smiled weakly.

"I meant about the Bandits."

"But, Harry might have had the right idea. The prefects' bathroom, you know." Ron scratched the back of his neck and looked at his feet.

"What about it?"

"How do you feel about being one of those couples that..." Ron struggled to remember Sirius's advice. "That dunnit?" he finished.

"Not yet, Ron." Hermione smiled. "Though I have thought about it."

"I love you, you know that?"

"Yes, and I love you too," said Hermione, her smile widening. "You can go off to bed if you like."

"Not a chance," said Ron, recognizing the offer as a test, thanks to Sirius's teachings.

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes the next morning to a bright, sunlit boys dormitory, he scanned the room for any sign of his best friend, but found nothing but Ron's empty bed. He grabbed his glasses from the table beside his four-poster bed and slid them over his eyes. Through the window from Gryffindor Tower, Harry could see Hagrid walking his massive brown scorpion out to the forest. Scorpagog was nearing the size of a boar, and Harry knew that Hagrid was teaching him to hunt his own food.

Harry heard a thud beside him and took his gaze away from the window; Neville had just begun his usual morning ritual by rolling out of bed.

"Good morning, Neville," said Harry. "Looks like it's springtime."

"Yeah." Neville rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the sunlight. "I had the strangest dream where I got to the semifinals of the tournament, and you said something about Merlin's portrait."

"That happened yesterday. You defeated Ginny," explained Harry, throwing a Weasley jumper over his chest. "That bloke in the portrait down there is Merlin, by the way."

"How do you know?"

"It's what the nameplate says."

"Could be something like... Merlin the Fifth, maybe," speculated Neville as he walked down the stairs to the common room by Harry's side. "Assuming Merlin the Fourth married a troll."

When Harry arrived at the base of the stairs, he offered Fred a small wave, then saw two students enter through the portrait hole. Ron and Hermione entered together, walked over to the dark red armchairs by the fire and plopped down on them, yawning.

"They didn't come back last night," said Seamus, nudging Harry's elbow. "Her, of all girls. It's always the ones you least expect."

"They were trapped in an empty classroom," said Harry, narrowing his eyes at Seamus. "Bandits' Balm."

"They're a laugh, those Bandits!" chuckled Seamus. "They're right on track with the twins."

"I long for the years when _we_ were the biggest troublemakers prowling around the school at night," said Ron, rubbing his forehead.

"Don't flatter yourself," said Fred from his portrait.

"Ron!" said a voice from the portrait hole. Ron turned his head to see Lavender Brown jogging over to him, holding a lilac-colored book. "Look at this."

Ron stood, then Hermione stood as well, gripping Ron's elbow protectively, but maintaining a sweet smile. Oblivious to the two girls, Ron examined the book, as Harry and Seamus approached.

"Oh, it's Rita's new book," said Ron. "Thanks, Lav."

"I like when you call me 'Lav,'" said Lavender. There was a sharp intake of breath from Ron as Hermione grasped his arm more tightly.

"Harry Potter and the Hungry Hippogriff," read Seamus, leaning over Ron's shoulder. "Must be about Buckbeak—what was that, third year?"

"So that's why those barmy Ravenclaw girls were having a go at me on my way here," said Ron. Hermione smiled triumphantly. "Oh they would side with you, those swots!"

"I just hope it helps to clear Sirius's name." Harry took the book and tossed it on a nearby table. "I'm writing her a letter. I want to know where she's getting her information. I didn't tell her half of this stuff, and she's mangled everything I did tell her. I won't have her bending the facts about Sirius."

"I'd better write her as well," said Ron as Harry took a quill and parchment up to the boys' dormitory. "Find out what _really_ happened."

"What do you mean by that?" said Hermione exasperatedly. Ron crossed his arms. "If you're talking about the Yule Ball, I've already told you everything."

"We'll see."

"Brilliant," said Neville. "Hermione Granger's telling me something, but I'm not sure, better get a reliable source... Oh, I know, I'll ask Rita Skeeter."

"It's not as though she's ever made a song and dance out of anything," yawned Ginny as she walked down from the girls' dormitory.

Neville handed her Harry Potter and the Hungry Hippogriff.

"Uh-oh," said Ginny, sitting down to read.

* * *

To Harry, it was the best kind of day. The sun was beaming brightly, coating the grounds of Hogwarts with an orange glow, but, as winter was just ending, the wind was cool and brisk. Harry led the way down the path to Hogsmeade, accompanied by his fellow leaders of Dumbledore's Army. It was to be their last Hogsmeade weekend at Hogwarts.

"This'll be our last Hogsmeade weekend," said Ron, putting his hands in his pockets to guard them from the chilly breeze. "I'll miss this. Good times."

"We can still visit Hogsmeade," said Hermione. "Don't be so sentimental. Harry's got enough of that to go around..."

"I'll want to come 'round Hogwarts all the time." Harry smiled. "It's my real home. Besides, we'll all be visiting Hagrid regularly, won't we?"

"Gran's said I should move out when I graduate." Neville shrugged. "Might move here. I'd like a wizarding village. I'm not the best at hiding my magic from Muggles."

"I'm not sure what I'll do." Ginny frowned. "Mum won't be too happy if we all move out at once. She's not quite recovered after Fred..."

"We don't have to live there to spend time there every day," said Ron, throwing an arm around his sister.

"Oh no," said Neville as they approached the Three Broomsticks.

"What is it?" asked Luna. "Oh. I agree."

In giggling conversation with her usual band of Ravenclaws, some familiar, some new, Cho Chang stood at the entrance to the Three Broomsticks tavern. Harry gulped, then snaked his arm around Ginny's waist and pulled her to his side. Harry started a march towards the building, looking determined.

Once Cho spotted Harry, she excused herself from her group and strolled over to him, smiling brightly. Ginny's eyes were shifting between Harry and Cho, gradually narrowing. Ron and Hermione were staring at Harry expectantly, and Neville had whisked Luna off into the Three Broomsticks to avoid the situation entirely.

"Harry!" said Cho cheerfully. "Want to go—"

"Can't go anywhere, I'm afraid," said Harry quickly. Cho frowned. "I'm here with my girlfriend, and can't be going off with other girls."

"That was uncalled for," said Cho, frowning. "You didn't have a problem _going off with other girls_ before, when it was Hermione."

"I never did that. You completely misconstrued—"

Before Harry could explain, Cho yelped in terror and ran into the Three Broomsticks. Harry turned around and gripped his wand under his robes, poised to defend himself from whatever scared Cho off. The four leaders of Dumbledore's Army flinched slightly at what they saw; it was the hyena, standing as high as Harry's thigh, with its spotted, sand-colored fur and hunched back. Harry had never seen it this clearly before, and noticed that one of its round, mouselike ears was missing.

Before Harry could register this development, the hyena began to morph quickly. It wasn't like Ron's graphic transformation, where skin ripped, bones broke and reconstructed, but more of a smooth transition from animal into a red-headed young man with one ear, who was eyeing the shocked faces of the students with a toothy grin.

"Fancy a pint?" asked George Weasley, guiding his speechless friends and siblings into the tavern. "On me."

"YOU!" bellowed Harry, and the delayed reaction caught the attention of the whole room. "It was you!"

"Ouch," said George, rubbing his ear. "Deafen my good ear, why don't you?"

"Harry!" called Neville from a booth across the room, sitting beside Luna who was sipping from a big wooden mug. "Over here!"

"Five butterbeers, please," said George, smiling flirtatiously to Madam Rosemerta, who smiled in return and handed him the drinks.

"You said you were working on a special project," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Am I to assume you were researching Animagus forms?"

"Correct."

"Why?"

"Well," said George, sitting at the booth and leaning over the table on his elbows, addressing the group of attentive D.A. leaders. "It's customary for a Marauder to become an Animagus."

"The Marauders are dead, though," said Harry.

"Fred and I were inducted by Sirius during that summer when you were in a snit about not receiving secret information via easily-intercepted owl post," explained George. "Sirius and Lupin thought it would be good for a laugh, I suppose. We assumed the Marauder nicknames Sniggers and Chuckles. We were both striving to become hyena."

"Nice names," said Ron, grinning. "Did you lose a bet or what?"

"Hyenas laugh when they're frustrated," said George. "We saw it as a good philosophy. Be happy, not angry, keep everyone else happy, and so on."

"Did Fred accomplish the Transfiguration before his death?" asked Luna.

"No," said George. "Lee's almost got it. He's well on his way to being a warthog."

"Lee is a Marauder too?" asked Ron.

"I don't know. I'm not sure I have the right to induct new members. Another Marauder tradition is to name the godfather of your child on the day of the birth, and I'll probably be naming Lee, barring the possibility of Ron deciding to start chewing with his mouth closed between now and then."

"I try," protested Ron. "It's just sort of hard to remember."

"He'll be like a Marauder, I suppose, if I name him godfather of little Fred," continued George.

"So then, since Lupin named me godfather of Teddy, wouldn't I be like a Marauder?" asked Harry, looking hopeful.

"Absolutely not." George smiled.

"Little Fred?" asked Neville. "You've already picked a name?"

"That's the easy part. The hard part is finding a woman crazy enough to help raise the little devil." George glanced over at Luna. "Say, do you have an older sister, by any chance?"

"No," said Luna.

"Drat. Fred's told me some good things." George winked at Neville.

"That's why you snuck into the common room!" exclaimed Harry. "The Bandits must have—aha! That's it!"

"What are you on about?" asked Ron, looking around at the crowd of people that were shooting odd looks at Harry.

"The Bandits stole your bag, Hermione. They needed it to store all those megaphones. This little advertiser here told them about it." Harry pointed an accusatory finger at George, who gasped dramatically. "The Hufflepuff basement is right next to the kitchens. They were able to guess Fred's password—likely 'Chuckles' or 'Sniggers'—because of their connections with George. That's how George knew of Fred's portrait, and that's why he came to visit."

"Excellent sleuthing. Here, your martini, Mr. Bond," said Hermione, nudging Harry's Butterbeer closer to him. "Fred and George must have discussed this situation with Cho, having learned of it from Ginny, which prompted him to intercept your little cozy meetings with Cho and make sure you behave yourself."

"I didn't have any cozy meetings with Cho!" complained Harry, getting up from his seat. Ginny pulled him back down, laughing lightly.

"It's all fine now, isn't it?" said George. Harry looked at Ginny hopefully.

"Without a doubt," said Ginny, taken aback. "Did you really come all the way out here because of me?"

"Business often brings me here," said George. "And as I'm in the business of making mischief, I considered every visit a triumph. It was also thanks to Fred's information that I was able to start the Dumbledore's Army Betting Pool. Not exactly legal, so mum's the word there. Dedalus has already gone and lost a good amount of coin betting on you, Ginny."

"Bet on the wrong pony, didn't he?" sniggered Ron.

"Ever so sorry," said Ginny. "I was facing the great Neville Longbottom after all."

"Don't belittle him," said Luna calmly, narrowing her eyes. Ginny frowned.

"I'm sorry, Neville," she said.

"Nope, too late," said Neville.

"Hey, Nev, did I overhear that you're going to be living out here?" said George.

"Reckon so. I'm moving out of my Gran's house, though she says I can still use the greenhouse. I need a magical community, you know?"

"Well how about Diagon Alley, then? Why move so far north?"

"That would be great, but it's too costly."

"I'll rephrase that: how about living with me in Diagon Alley, then? Fred's bed needs someone to fill it. We'll split the rent."

"Really?" Neville's face lit up. "That sounds great."

"What about Helinora?" asked Ron.

"She'll be going back to the forest soon. I've contacted Magorian out by Grawp's cave. Diagon Alley isn't really her sort of habitat."

"I'd like to be there when it happens," said Ron. George nodded.

"So," said George, finishing his butterbeer. "What's this I hear about you two sleeping in an empty classroom?"


	20. Induction at the Stone Circle

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

"I've failed! I know it!" cried Hermione, tangling her fingers together. Her hair was falling from its bun as she repeatedly turned her head to check the portrait hole. "Oh, he's been out there for _ages!_"

"You haven't failed, Hermione," said an exhausted Ron as he flipped a page in Quidditch Quarterly. "You always get paranoid just before getting your results."

"But I _know_ I did! I went completely wrong on the Herbology demonstration. Don't you see? More and more career paths are closing in front of me!"

"Bugger! The Cannons are down three games to one." Ron looked up from the magazine, smirking. "Did you say something, dear?"

"Oh, stop it!" Hermione snatched the magazine from Ron's hands and attempted to throw it across the room; its pages flapped in the air and it flew a comically short distance. She turned to see Ron's yellow-toothed grin and crossed her arms. "Stop laughing! Aren't you worried?"

"Just about Potions. Wish I didn't have to do it 'round this time of the month, you know."

"What if you don't get the grade? Then you'll never be an Auror! Don't you see how important this is?"

"Well, if I can't be an Auror, I'll just have to settle for 'rich international Quidditch star.'" Ron smiled and Ginny scoffed from across the room. "Besides, why do you care about Herbology anyway? That stuff's for nutters like Neville."

"Hey!" shouted Neville's voice from the top of the stairs to the Boys' Dormitory. He was carrying the shining silver Mermish Starflower, and its petals were curled severely. He caught Ron's eye, nodded, and set it down on a table next to Ginny.

"Sorry, Nev," said Ron. "Stop biting your nails, Hermione."

Hermione's hands dropped to her sides quickly, as she glanced around the room, repeatedly whispering to herself to remain calm.

"You just need to get your mind off it," said Ginny. "When's the next round of the tournament?"

"I think Harry will turn up with the results before then, Ginny," said Ron, staring at the fallen magazine longingly.

"I was trying to change the subject." Ginny scowled.

"Soon, then," said Ron. "Percy's written Harry to ask as well - hey, that might mean Kingsley's coming!"

"You know the Minister?" asked an excited second-year girl.

"Yeah," said Ron, turning his chin up impressively. "Now go fetch that magazine, or it's detention."

"_Ron!_" scolded Hermione.

"Er, just kidding," said Ron sheepishly.

There was an ear-splitting shriek of excitement from Hermione when Harry came barreling through the portrait hole, clutching several pages of parchment in his hand. He distributed them among his friends, and sniggered when Hermione snatched her results from his hand with lightning speed. Harry took this time to examine his own results, and saw that he'd scored the necessary grades required for an aspiring Auror. All of his fears, doubts, and concerns were dissolving by the weight of the accomplishment.

"I did it! E in Potions!" shouted Ron, yanking Harry from his thoughts. "Blimey!"

Harry and Ron made eye contact for a fraction of a second before embracing each other in a tight hug. Harry laughed merrily when Ron lifted him off his feet and twirled him about in mid-air, and raised his fist in triumph, still clutching the page of parchment in it. The two vaguely heard Hermione's sigh of relief, and Ginny's mention of an 'O' in Charms, but couldn't be bothered with them. As Harry was being let down, he felt the full blast of Ron's rotten werewolf breath and winced slightly.

"Is it time already?" he asked, patting Ron on the shoulder. Ron nodded solemnly. "Well, with an E in Potions, you can make your own!"

"Ha! Right!" Ron chuckled. He turned to face Hermione, who was tapping her foot, looking thoroughly unamused. "How'd you do?"

"Why don't you go and marry him?" asked Hermione, before turning her back on the boys and approaching Ginny to swap result forms.

"He's too short for me." Ron shared a laugh with Harry and glanced over Neville's shoulder to see his sheet. "Brilliant, Neville! 'O' in Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

"I'd imagine all the D.A. leaders got those," said Ginny. "Yes, look, Hermione's got one. She's got an 'O' in everything except Herbology, in fact."

"I panicked on the demonstration," explained Hermione, as she perused Ginny's grades. "You've got an 'O' in Charms!"

"Charms isn't very hard. I can't imagine how you achieved an 'Outstanding' in Transfiguration."

"I had an excellent teacher," said Hermione, smiling. Neville beamed. "I meant McGonagall, but your Gran's very good as well. I'm not sure about her methods, though."

"Don't worry, Nev, that's just Hermione," said Ron. "You've got to feed her 12 subjects' worth of homework every day or she gets restless."

* * *

_'I want that mouse,'_ thought Ron as he crammed his snout in the opening underneath one of the Shrieking Shack's dusty couches, biting at the fleeing rodent. _'Come here, you delicious little guy.'_

_'COME HERE!'_ Ron roared into the area between the couch and the floor, his breath blowing clouds of dust out from the area.

The frightened mouse escaped through a small hole in the wall, scampering off into the shadows. Enraged, Ron stood with all his might and upended the couch, feeling a bit of satisfaction from watching it crash to the ground and crumple into a pile of fluff and wooden planks. Ron's canine ears twitched as he heard a shrieking noise from the entrance to the shack, and he turned around to face a hyena that was rolling on the floor in howling laughter.

Ron mumbled a quiet growl, prowling through the mess and furniture ruin to approach George. George flipped over to stand on four legs, glancing up at Ron inquisitively. Similar to their human forms, the lupine Ron was taller and lankier than his brother's canine frame, capable of peering down at him with natural intimidation, and George was thicker and stronger, capable of teaching Ron a lesson should he attempt it.

A movement behind George caught Ron's eye, and Ron looked into the dark passageway that led to the Whomping Willow, seeing a gleam of light shining off of two big black orbs. A hulking shadow was approaching slowly, with streams of dust falling wherever its sides scraped the dirt walls around it; it could barely fit in the tunnel.

"Roon!" said Scorpagog, poking into the shack. The most he could get through the doorway was his head and one claw. "Roon! I'm being inducted inter the Council of Elders as a Junior Elder Cadet!"

Much like his conversation with Gogara, Ron didn't know how to speak to an animal. He could only listen, and, from George's ensuing cackle, Ron supposed Animagi could understand animals as well.

"The ceremony's takin' place right now! Join us! Bring yer dog!" George's laughter died immediately. Scorpagog turned and slammed his head into a load-bearing wooden plank. "_Ow!_"

Scorpagog shuffled off into the tunnel awkwardly, and Ron made eye contact with George. George nodded, and Ron followed the young prodigious scorpion down the path towards the Whomping Willow. The trail of crumbling sandy dirt and streaming dust left in Scorpagog's wake gave Ron the impression that the tunnel would cave in at any moment. After pinching the knot at the base of the Whomping Willow with a claw, Scorpagog walked out in the open and crawled towards the Stone Circle.

If a student snuck out to Hagrid's Hut, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione had done countless times, they'd stumble across a peculiar sight: A giant scorpion walking casually up the hill to the Stone Circle, followed by a curious werewolf and hyena. As they arrived at the top of the hill and walked into the Stone Circle, several shadowy figures of all different shapes scuttled out from behind the surrounding pillars of rock.

"Greetings, allies," said a familiar voice, grim and growling, like Kreacher's, but with an inhuman rasp. "These are the friends of Hagrid?"

"Indeed, Gogara, they are," said a throaty croak of a voice to Ron's side. Ron turned to see Neville's toad, Trevor, hopping into the Stone Circle. "Is the Council formed?"

"I believe so," said a wispy feminine voice from atop one of the stone pillars. Ron and George looked up to see the unmistakable lamplike eyes of Mrs. Norris, glimmering bright gold in the moonlight. "Who's the dog?"

"Sir Fang!" barked a beefy black boarhound as he walked to the middle of the hilltop "Senior Elder-"

"Not you, you great baboon, the brown dog!"

"Who goes there!" demanded Trevor, glaring at George, who was unable to respond.

"It is the Animagus, George Weasley," chirped Pigwidgeon as he flew into the circle and perched himself high on a stone pillar opposite Mrs. Norris. "Brother of Roonil."

Ron grumbled, making a note to tell Scorpagog to inform the Council of his real name. Ron glanced at the nervous-looking Scorpion, who was standing at attention, sting raised, as a large ginger cat encircled him, as if performing an inspection.

"Tentaculox has been informed of the new member," said Mrs. Norris from atop her stone pillar. "He wasn't interested."

"Very well," said Trevor. "The induction ceremony shall now commence!"

Scorpagog was nudged to the center of the Stone Circle by the large ginger cat, now surrounded by Council members. A slew of whispers flowed through the crowd of animals.

"You're quite large," said Trevor, hopping forward. "How big do you intend on growing?"

"According to Hagrid, larger than Aragog."

"How big, exactly, was Aragog?" asked Crookshanks, the ginger cat.

"'Bout two or three times the size of your average Acromantula," said Fang.

"EEK!" chirped the fidgetting owl.

"Calm yourself, Pigwidgeonald."

"It is true," said Gogara. "My father was not as large as this scorpion at the same age. Hagrid was able to fit my father in a small box within the castle."

"Might this be a problem?" asked Mrs. Norris.

"Quite the opposite!" said Trevor. "Never again shall we rely on Sir Fang to defend us on the ground! No Centaur troop shall challenge us again!"

"We should never have terminated the Hippogriff's membership," argued Fang. "I'm not cut out for fighting!"

"The Hippogriff that lives above Hagrid's house?" asked Pigwidgeon.

"Yes. Count Buck von Beak," said Trevor. "A noble beast, but, unfortunately, dangerous."

"If he is to be our new enforcer," said Crookshanks, prowling past the shivering scorpion. "He ought to stop his _cowering_ and stand confidently."

"Yes sir!" shouted Scorpagog, standing taller in an attempt to be still.

"What is your name, cadet?" asked Mrs. Norris.

"S-Scorpagog."

"You are Hagrid's scorpion?" asked Gogara.

"Yes sir!"

"It is time for the Oath of Elders!" declared Trevor. The Council members tilted their heads down and closed their eyes.

"Repeat after me," said Trevor. "I, Scorpagog the Strong, friend to Hagrid, resident of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, do hereby and with absolute certainty swear to uphold the Elder's Law to the best of my ability until my brain ceases to function."

Scorpagog recited the oath, joined by the rest of the Council, who murmured in agreement.

"Any questions?" asked Trevor.

"Yes, why do yeh do this out here?"

"Young scorpion," said Mrs. Norris. "Have you never pondered the existence of this rock formation? It stands at the perfect point between the Forbidden Forest, the Owlery, Hogwarts, the Great Lake and Hagrid's Hut. It was erected as a sundial many years ago, and now stands as a bastion of the Elders' pantheon, as the pinnacle of symbolic unity."

"We stand as one!" howled Sir Fang. There were several hoots, croaks, hisses and meows of agreement. Even George barked jovially, earning him a bewildered stare from Ron.

"Let us not forget that the nexus of the Stone Circle also links the Whomping Willow," said Crookshanks.

"But, we induct neither werewolf nor Animagus, I'm afraid," said Trevor. "They might go on to reveal our secrets, like that blasted beetle!"

* * *

"Ron?"

Ron opened his eyes to find his head encompassed by a wall of crimson hair, as his sister leaned over him with a concerned look. Ron blinked his vision clear, then batted the red strands away from his face and sat up. He glanced around the room, seeing several shards of sunlight prickling through the boarded windows. A swarm of dusty specks was visible floating through the rays.

"Where's Hermione?" asked Ron, as Ginny helped him to his feet. "And Harry?"

"Hermione's... Let's say she's a bit upset with you," said Ginny delicately. "Harry's off calming her down."

"What'd I do this time?" Ron scratched his head.

"You don't remember?" Ginny rolled her eyes. "Whatever it was, it sounded like a big deal."

"So I'll get her a Sugar Quill," mumbled Ron. Ginny pulled Ron's arm over her shoulder and guided him through to the tunnel. "When did you get so strong?"

"Since I started playing Quidditch," said Ginny. She grinned and crouched down by Ron's side, sweeping his legs out from under him and carrying him through the tunnel bridal-style. "Not that you're very heavy."

"I could get used to this," said Ron. He linked his hands together around Ginny's neck and rested his head at her collar.

"Don't." Ginny smirked. "I just hate seeing you like this."

"I'll be fine," said Ron, immediately before hacking up a bluish-gray wad of goo onto the dirt floor. "Ignore that."

"I hope so. I hope you can be an Auror."

"If not, I'll just work at the shop. Probably make even more money."

"Never were that ambitious, were you, Ron?" Ginny smiled weakly.

"Not about work. What do you want to be anyway?"

"Promise you won't laugh?" asked Ginny unsurely. Ron nodded. "I mean, I'll drop you if you laugh."

"I won't laugh."

"Rich international Quidditch star." Ginny scowled in preparation for Ron's response, but Ron simply smiled.

"For the Harpies?"

"Yes."

"Go on, then. Just don't fool around on Harry. I know what those Harpies get up to when they're off traveling."

"Oh? And how do you know that?"

"Charlie. One time he and Bill-"

"That's enough of that story," said Ginny quickly. "The Harpies are in a league that doesn't travel abroad, anyway."

"Ginny," said Ron sluggishly, nearly dozing off in his sister's arms.

"Yes?"

"I haven't told you this, but if you break his heart, you might wake up in my stomach one night on the full moon." Ron bared his gnarled, slimy teeth at his giggling sister.

"Don't worry." Ginny leaned forward, bumping Ron's head into the knot at the base of the Whomping Willow and walking out towards the hill to the Covered Bridge. "All right, on your feet. I'm not carrying you uphill."

"Fine." Ron rubbed the bump on the top of his head and trudged up the hill, holding onto Ginny for support. "So you don't know why Hermione's peeved, then?"

"If I did, I might not have come to help," said Ginny. "You don't remember doing anything to anger her?"

"Nothing too bad," said Ron. "I did make one of the munchkins carry my flower the other day."

"Good call, Mr. Responsible."

"My hands were full and they were just sitting there. Oh, there she is, at the end of the bridge." Ron pointed to Hermione, who was stomping towards Ron from the other side of the long wooden covered bridge, followed by Harry, who was desperately trying to calm her down. "Cornering me on the bridge so I can't escape. Smart girl."

Hermione stopped before him, glaring into his eyes. "You..."

"What?"

"You were out of the shack. I saw you."

"Oh. Is that why you're so ticked?" Ron sighed in relief, and began hobbling forward, towards the castle.

"Yes, that's why I'm _'ticked!'_" cried Hermione, gripping his shoulder and turning him around. "You aren't supposed to leave the shack! What if Hagrid was out there and you attacked him?"

"He'd probably kick my arse then feed me a biscuit," said Ron, grinning. "Who was I going to attack? The school's locked up at night."

"It could have been anyone going to the Owlery! What if Hagrid had people over? It could have been Helinora all over again!"

Ron's grin disappeared. Harry whistled and busied himself by cleaning his glasses.

"Don't think I don't know how serious this is; I'm the one that has to live with it. I was invited out, and I only went to the circle," argued Ron. "Lupin went way farther, even into Hogsmeade."

"Did you not see how much Lupin regretted that?" said Ginny.

"Well it's not exactly some picnic!" growled Ron. "Eating those table legs, sleeping in grime, hacking up bits of rubbish that look like escargot."

"You'll only have to deal with it for a few more months," said Harry. "Then you're on Wolfsbane again, yeah?"

Harry looked to Hermione, who sighed, before agreeing. "Yes. I'll make it for you."

"Who invited you out?" asked Ginny.

"Scorpagog. I certainly wasn't attacking Hagrid with him around. It's odd, you know, because George was there too and I didn't have any desire to eat him either, even though I was right hungry... In fact, I could really think straight with George around. It was almost like being on Wolfsbane again."

"Lupin said werewolves are only dangerous to humans, and that he could go out with big animals to keep him in line," supplied Harry.

"Lupin also said there were too many close calls to count," said Hermione, narrowing her eyes. "Don't do it again."

Hermione turned and walked off, huffing. Ron gave a sigh of relief.

"Phew. Definitely don't want her mad at me, in case it's me against her in the next round of the tournament."

"Actually, she's facing Neville," said Harry. "You'll have to get past me before reaping what you sow."

"Oh, good." Ron grinned. "Hopefully she'll take it all out on Neville."

"Unless Neville uses his signature wand-chucking technique," said Ginny. "It's incredibly effective."


	21. Champion of the Chessboard

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

"Hedwig," said Harry to the three-headed blob of dirt. Several Shield Charms were conjured to protect the Dumbledore's Army students from the deluge of dust.

"Me first, Potter," said Lee Jordan, pushing his way through the crowd and lifting the old wooden trapdoor. He pinched his nose between his thumb and knuckle, closed his eyes and hopped in, as if jumping into a pool.

"That's nothing!" called George Weasley, yelling into the hole. He placed his hands together as if he were praying, and dove into the hole head-first.

"Stop that!" yelled Hermione into the hole, shivering. "That's so unsettling!"

"I think that's what he was shooting for," said Ron. "Go on, let's see your swan dive."

Hermione jumped into the hole, and the rest of the D.A. members followed, through the various chambers and dungeons that led to the Chess room.

"So George, who's got the most money riding on their head?" asked Ron conversationally.

"Harry, of course," said George.

"Who'd you bet on?"

"Harry, of course."

"But I'm your brother!" growled Ron. "You're supposed to support me!"

"So I'll buy you a pygmy puff or something," said George, patting Ron on the back. There was a wave of sniggering through the crowd of D.A. members. "That's right, a pygmy puff, which can only be found at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley."

"Is that why you're here?" asked Harry, grinning. "To plug the shop?"

"No, but I'd be a fool not to."

When they arrived at the giant chessboard, they found that McGonagall had restored flame to the candles and torches high above the crowd of students, teachers and guests. Eager to help, Hagrid had constructed a sturdy set of high stands for the audience, and they were filled to capacity, yet still there were several people wandering about the floor near the glowing chessboard, or at the refreshments table, where Ron was already wolfing down a croissant.

Hovering above the high stands were the translucent Hogwarts ghosts; their brilliant white glow helped illuminate the room. Peeves the Poltergeist was sitting cross-legged in mid-air by the Bloody Baron's side, looking painfully bored. Harry smiled nervously when Moaning Myrtle offered him a seductive wink.

George and Lee immediately disappeared into a corner of the room, where a booth with megaphones was being erected by four young Hufflepuff first-years. Neville nudged Harry and nodded in their direction; Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, was speaking casually with them, accompanied by an eager Percy Weasley, who was turning students away as they approached the Minister.

Similar to the dueling arena, the plains in the background of Merlin's portrait were filled with a set of stands Harry recognized from the Quidditch-themed portrait of Salvatore the Seeker. Harry supposed Salvatore must have dragged the painted stands through the portraits of Hogwarts all the way down to the venue. Albus Dumbledore, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey, and Merlin himself stood in front, eyeing the four remaining combatants and whispering to each other.

It didn't take long for Harry to spot the half-giant Hagrid, with his shaggy hair and big fluffy beard, standing out over the heads of the students. Harry approached the massive Hagrid, who was downing a gallon-sized pitcher of an unknown honey-colored drink by the refreshments table. Ron stood beside him, his cheeks bulging like a frog's neck as he chewed pastries. Hermione rolled her eyes at the sight, and he offered her an apologetic smile.

"Hello," said Hagrid. "Big turn-out, eh, Harry?"

"Right," said Harry, impressed. "Thank Godric for your stands."

"It was nothin'," said Hagrid, waving a dustbin lid-sized hand.

"No, it wasn't nothing," said Harry, placing a hand at Hagrid's bicep, which was as far as he could reach. "It's one of the reasons I'm inducting you into Dumbledore's Army."

"Really? Thanks, Harry!" Hagrid crushed Harry in a one-armed hug. "I know it's a student orgernization n' all but you know how I feel 'bout Dumbledore."

"We couldn't have done it all without you," said Harry. "Besides, I need someone to help maintain the group after we graduate. Won't you?"

"I'll do me best."

"I was thinking before," said Hermione. Ron snorted, but she ignored him and continued. "Dennis has earned quite a bit of respect from the Quidditch final, hasn't he? He'll still be here next year. Perhaps he can teach?"

"Good idea," said Harry. "Dennis is all right."

"I think Dennis is perfectly apt," said Luna. "The Creevey brothers were your most devoted fans, weren't they? Dennis is the most likely to honor your practices and continue your work. I think that's important."

"Well said, Luna," said Ginny. "Perhaps we should draft a rule book, or a lesson plan?"

"Yes!" said Hermione. "Oh, why didn't I think of that before? We absolutely _must._"

"Maybe you were right," said Neville looking at Ginny. "Maybe Dumbledore's Army will be a part of Hogwarts for the rest of its years."

"Rule number one," said Ron through a mouthful of baked goods. "_I'm_ number one."

There was a slew of sniggering within a ten-foot radius of the refreshments table, as Ron beamed.

"Second rule," he then said, "is that _I_ rule."

Hermione rolled her eyes while Ginny shrugged and said, "At least he didn't say 'no girls allowed.'"

"I don't want any Slytherins in Dumbledore's Army," said Harry suddenly, his serious tone infecting the light laughter like a drop of food-coloring in water. "I'll not bend on that, either."

"Agreed," said Ron. Hermione looked unsure, but didn't protest.

"Oi! I was in Slytherin!" protested Merlin from his portrait.

"Right, that's likely..."

"When's showtime?" asked Dean, nibbling the limbs off of a squirming Chocolate Frog.

"I expect the finals will begin once the professors are in attendance," said Luna distractedly as she stared towards the portrait of Merlin, where George was conversing with the magically painted Fred. "_Ginny..._"

"Oh no," said Ginny. She squirrelled through the crowd of black-robed students and teachers to drag her brother away from Merlin's portrait.

"I think everyone's here," said Ron. "Flitwick's closing the door."

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen," said the amplified voice of Lee Jordan from the radio booth in the corner, "to Potterwatch's live broadcast of the Dumbledore's Army Dueling Tournament!"

"Oh, that's what they were doing back there," said Harry, craning his head and standing on his toes to look over the crowd at the Potterwatch booth.

"This is your host, River!" continued Lee. "We've left Potterwatch headquarters at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley to give you live coverage of the biggest dueling event of the year! Joining me is my partner in crime, George Weasley, also known under his Potterwatch codename, 'Dagger!'"

"Salutations!" said George.

"Also joining the broadcast," said Lee. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, the Muggle protecting, Death Eater collecting, Dementor disarming, lady charming, Minister for Magic himself; Potterwatch's own, Royal!"

"Thank you," replied Kingsley, taken aback by his introduction.

"As well as one new member of the Potterwatch team. He is the brother of broadcasters Dagger and Rapier! Please welcome Hubris!"

"It's good to be here at Hogwarts—wait, _Hubris?_ I wanted to be called—" began Percy, speaking too close to the microphone.

"Too bad!" chirped George. Percy looked scandalized. "Look sharp there, Hubie."

"I wonder how many people are listening to this in their homes," said Hermione.

"I might even become famous," mused Harry.

"We're down to the final four here at Hogwarts," continued George. "These are the best of the best, folks. Hogwarts' finest. Of course, this is three years after the departure of yours truly, attention must be paid... so the remaining duelists are Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom. The first match shall commence momentarily, but first, a word from our Minister."

"I'd like to take this moment to announce the success of the War on Delirium," said Kingsley. "The Dementors are retreating to the plains of Scotland, as well as other desolate areas. Our specialists are mopping up the edges to ensure the complete eradication of the Dementors. If you spot an odd formation of fog, or a flying cloaked figure, please report it to the Auror Department by owl post as soon as possible, and practice your Patronus Charms!"

"I'd like to add, for the record, a bit of assurance to our listeners that the War on Delirium is a zero-casualty battle," said Percy loudly as George prodded his chest until he sat at a safe distance away from the microphone. "The success rate of a rank of well-equipped Aurors against Dementors is incredibly high. It is the young and the weak that are in danger of Dementor attack."

"Thank you, Hubris," said Lee. "As always, at Potterwatch, the hard news comes first. Which brings me to something else that's making headlines: yesterday evening on our world news segment, we received reports of some goblin turmoil in the diplomatic departments of the Ministry?"

"The Magical Law department certainly hasn't been very diplomatic as of late," said Kingsley, "but there are a few concerns that are being addressed. With the Ministry recovering from corruption, we've had some difficulty in dealing with the aftermath of a certain incident involving a break-in at Gringotts bank."

At this, the gaze of every student and teacher in the arena fell upon Harry and his friends.

"Goblins offer little leniency on these matters, even considering that we were in wartime. I can't say much more but I hope to resolve this issue as one of the first measures I take in office, after the Dementor eradication of course."

"I've got a good feeling about it," said Lee. "Some people tend to get away with highly illegal activities—ahem—now we get down to business! I'm told by a rather fit witch—Demelza, was it?—that the first match is between Gryffindors Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. Here's Dagger with the statistics."

Neville was shaking from head to toe as though covered in ants, casting the occasional nervous glance to his grandmother. Hermione approached the shivering Neville and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug, before passing him and boarding the large platform. Neville relaxed slightly and followed, crawling onto the giant chessboard and standing opposite Hermione, his features cast in an odd light from the cyan glow of the checkered marble below. He repeatedly stuck his hand up his shirt to scratch his stomach.

"They've boarded the stage now," said George. "Firstly, we have Hermione Granger, the Mad-haired Muggleborn. Her wand is ten and three-quarters inches, vine wood with a dragon heartstring core. Her spell of choice is the Shield Charm. She came in second place the preliminary round-robin behind Harry Potter, and defeated Ritchie Coote, then Seamus Finnegan, and then Ernie Macmillan to reach the semifinals. I've got one word, folks, and it's 'knowledge.'"

George smiled innocently at Hermione, who appeared to have concentrated solely on the quip about her bushy hair.

"She's got an incredible arsenal of spells and incantations stored in that head of hers," said Lee. "Capable of lashing out from every direction with a varied assault. I'm told Ernie found that out the hard way."

"It should be noted that she is currently Head Girl of Hogwarts school," added Kingsley.

"And now, her opponent, Neville Longbottom!" said George. "He wields a thirteen inch cherry wood wand with a core of unicorn hair. His spell of choice is the ol' trusty Stunner. After finishing eleventh in the preliminary round-robin and defeating Hannah Abbot in the first round, Neville was offered a pass through the second round when Dean Thomas and Terry Boot incapacitated each other and could not advance. He went on to face Ginny Weasley and employed an unusual technique whereby he threw his wand at Ginny's eye."

"Eyewitness accounts report that it slipped from his hand by accident," supplied Lee.

"Nevertheless," said George. "He emerged victorious, and now faces Hermione in the semifinals. You're all thinking it, so I'm just going to ask the question: how can he win?"

"Well," said Lee. "He's got raw magical power, but other than that, the skies are black for Mr. Longbottom."

"There's referee Minerva McGonagall, headmistress of Hogwarts, approaching the stage," said George, as Professor McGonagall readied her whistle. "I've always thought she was quite the fox."

The room went quiet as Hermione and Neville stood at opposite ends of the chessboard in their fighting stances, staring intimidatingly into each other's eyes. After McGonagall offered George a smirk, the whistle sounded, and Neville immediately took a large overhand swing, gripping his wand tightly. Beads of sweat had already formed on his face, and they whipped off of his forehead when he lunged forward.

"_STUPEFY!_" shouted Neville, sending a wave of ruby-colored light in Hermione's direction.

"_Protego!_" countered Hermione, holding her wand high. Neville's red blast crashed into Hermione's Shield Charm and neutralized with a heavy thud.

"Granger's blocked the first stunner, and it was a heavy one!" observed Lee. "Her Shield Charm has always been a tough nut—wait, Longbottom's on the attack again!"

"_STUP—_"

"_Expelliarmus!_" breathed Hermione quickly, with a swish of the wand.

Before Neville could release his stunner, he was hit directly on the chest by Hermione's own red flash, but it splashed off of his shoulders and vanished into the air like smoke. Hermione's jaw dropped and she hesitated for a second, stunned not by Neville's curses but by witnessing hers having no effect. Neville opened his eyes, which he had shut tightly to brace himself for the blast, and noticed his wand was still firmly in his hand. He smirked before waving it wildly.

"A direct hit, but no dice!" said George. "The spell just bounced off!"

"_STUPEFY!_"

Hermione barely evaded Neville's curse by diving onto the stone floor, her robes rippling in the force of the shot. Then she rose to her feet and sidestepped another blast.

"_Stupefy!_" Hermione shot a precise stream of red light into Neville's chest, only to watch it disintegrate into thin air upon impact.

"Hermione's stunner had no effect!" said Lee. "Neville must be using some unknown nonverbal spell!"

"Doubt it," said George. "With Neville's wandwork, everything is up front. No surprises. Something odd is going on here."

"_STUPEFY!_"

Though Hermione could escape Neville's shots for now, it was only a matter of time before she would slip up and lose. She racked her brain for a solution to the problem, and recalled Harry's tale of Dumbledore's defense against Adava Kedavra with the use of inanimate objects.

"_STUP—_oh no!" Neville fumbled his wand and quickly scrambled to retrieve it.

"_Poseidum Nexus!_" Hermione seized her chance without a moment's hesitation, stirring her wand in a circular motion.

"Hermione's conjured a stream of water!" said George.

A splash of water appeared in the middle of the circle Hermione was drawing in the air, and grew into a large ball that was expanding as though water were being poured into a massive spherical container. Hermione's hair was completely wild at this point, as it whipped around by the force of the spell, along with her robes. The audience had gone silent, as did the broadcasters at the Potterwatch booth.

"Neville's got his wand back!" said Lee.

Neville lifted his wand, poised to strike, but was engulfed in the massive sphere of water, rendering his incantation into a stream of bubbles that rose to the top of the watery orb. Neville flipped around, unable to speak incantations or move his wand. The audience was captivated by the sparkling water that gleamed in the light of the chessboard below.

"Neville's been trapped in Hermione's Poseidum!" said Lee. "Wait, what's this? It's turning green!"

As Neville shuffled, a cloud of leaf-green liquid appeared within the ball of water, swerving like cigarette smoke. Then, the ball began to shrink, until it was too small to contain Neville. Neville dropped to the ground, his hair dripping green liquid onto the white marble, as the sphere of water dwindled into a small drop and disappeared overhead.

"You smothered yourself with Bewitch-Me-Not pollen, didn't you?" said Hermione. Neville coughed. "That was really clever, Neville!"

"Oi!" barked Ron from the sidelines. "You're in a duel here!"

"Oh, right!" Hermione flicked her wand at Neville, who fell limp onto the floor for the duration of Professor McGonagall's ten-count. The crowd roared with applause.

"Granger wins!" yelled Lee. "_Granger wins with a Poseidum spell!_"

Hermione helped Neville off the platform, stopping to remedy his cough with an unspoken spell. He shuffled over to the stands and sat down, pouting grumpily. His expression lifted when Luna, Seamus, and Dean approached and sat next to him, patting him on the shoulder in congratulation.

"That was excellent, Hermione!" said Harry.

"It was nothing," said Hermione, her cheeks turning pink.

Ron gripped her sides tightly and pressed his lips to hers, then released her and clapped his hand into her shoulder. She stared at the ground, red as a tomato as the crowd cheered. "It was brilliant. See you in the finals."

"Don't be so sure about that," said Harry, with a wicked grin, which Ron returned.

"Alright, witches and wizards!" called Lee. "It's time for the battle you've all been waiting for, between Harry Potter and Ron Weasley!"

"It's hero versus sidekick, folks," said George. Ron scowled. "They're closer than brothers, and now they have to fight each other!"

"Good luck, mate," said Ron, before taking his stance atop the glowing chessboard. Harry nodded and assumed his battle position.

"First, we have the Chosen One himself. He is the Boy Who Lived, the man who defeated the Dark Lord, Harry Potter!" said Lee. The crowd cheered. "His wand is eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather. His spell of choice is the Disarming Charm. He placed first at the preliminary round-robin and defeated Millicent Bulstrode, then Justin Finch-Fletchley, and then Luna Lovegood to reach the semifinal round. He is known throughout the Wizarding world for his dueling prowess."

"He's definitely the favorite here," said Percy. "But I'm Ron's brother and I think he has a fighting chance."

"Ron Weasley is his opponent and best friend," said Lee. "His wand is fourteen inches, willow and unicorn hair. His spell of choice is 'Expelliarmus' as well. He placed in sixth during the preliminary round-robin and defeated Susan Bones, then Dennis Creevey, and then Draco Malfoy to reach the semifinals. He's known as Harry's best friend, and, to the foolish few who believe everything that old barker Rita Skeeter writes, the Heir of Gryffindor."

"Why does she call him that, anyway?" wondered Percy aloud.

"Anything to glamorize the story, Hubie," said George. "Poor Harry can't even have a Butterbeer without that shrew writing a full-length book about how he vanquished the evil Butterbeer monster, Beerolaius—and Ron is the same way; he swings a sword around in the forest and suddenly he was destined to wield that sword. Sad part is that's probably going to go down in history as fact... I can see it now... 'Whosoever is worthy shall wield Godric Gryffindor's sword and sharpen its blade against the timber of evil! I am he!'"

"Is that a direct quote, Dag?" said Lee over the laughter of the crowd.

"Yes. I personally heard Ron Weasley say that. You're welcome for the material, Rita."

"At least it's positive."

"_Ahem_," Kingsley interjected. "The match is about to start."

Harry and Ron stood completely still, awaiting McGonagall's whistle. When it sounded, the two competitors began weaving and ducking past each other's curses, flicking their wands back and forth to cast bright red blasts at each other. Their fight flowed with a fluidity borne of their extensive knowledge of each other's styles and abilities. The audience swooned with delight as they began to throw their hexes with dazzling trick-shots, including behind-the-backs and baton-style twirls.

"No hits yet," said Lee. "They appear to be feeling each other out, searching for an opening."

"_Stupefy!_" breathed Harry, sending a stunner so low it barely grazed the ground.

"_Rictusempra!_" replied Ron in mid-air as he jumped over the red wave and shot a burst of sparkling white needles that curved through the air and attacked Harry from several angles.

"Excellent five-pronged Rictusempra by Ron," observed Kingsley.

"This'll hurt, Harry," said Ron with a wicked grin as Harry shielded himself from Ron's spread-fire Tickling Hex. "_Orbis Infernum!_"

As Harry was distracted by the dartlike Tickling Hex, he was unable to prevent Ron from conjuring a large ball of fire. Ron had considerably less control over his conflagration than Hermione displayed with her Poseidum, as flames were lashing out from the fireball like orange tentacles, and embers cracked and flew from the blaze. Ron swung his wand at Harry, and the ball of fire flattened into a thin stream that swam through the air like a sea-snake, slithering towards the nervous-looking Boy Who Lived.

"Ron's conjured a fireball!" said Lee. "If Harry doesn't act fast, he'll be nothing but a pair of spectacles and a black spot on the chessboard!"

"_Shangrisempra!_" shouted Harry. He became enveloped in a dome of white light that shone so brightly he was forced to close his eyes.

Ron shielded his eyes from the intense light, unable to see his fireball dissolving into billowing puffs of hot steam as it passed through Harry's protective shield. Harry stepped out of the forcefield, holding his wand high above his head and pointing it to the ceiling. Above him, the air was rippling with heat as the steam from Ron's fireball had been captured in mid-air. Harry swiped his wand forward, blowing the gust of hot air towards Ron; it made a sharp whistling noise as it flew.

"Ron's gone and given the spider the web there," said George. "Solid objects, Ron!"

"_No coaching!_" whined a familiar voice from the stands.

"_Accio D-Three!_" said Ron. The heavy marble tile that occupied the D-3 square broke off of the board and flew into Ron's outstretched arms, nearly knocking him over.

Ron held the slab of rock over his chest just in time to deflect the torrent of steam that had been shot his way. He groaned in pain as his exposed fingers that clutched the sides of the stone scorched in the heat of the blast, and he dropped the board to the floor before him, where it broke in two. Ron quickly retrieved the pieces, flinging them by hand in Harry's direction one-by-one like frisbees, as Harry slouched, reeling from the energy lost casting the Shangrisempra charm.

With a flick of Harry's wand, one of the domino-shaped halves of the stone slab exploded and crumbled onto the floor. Harry swished his wand again to dispose of the other. When the smoke cleared, Harry saw Ron dashing towards him at full speed, and sluggishly raised his wand, but was unable to muster a curse with enough stopping power to prevent Ron from reaching him. Harry then dropped his wand and raised his fists, fully expecting to be struck with the same fist that defeated Malfoy.

"Looks like this will end as a Muggle duel!" said Lee. The crowd had erupted at this point, and Hermione's eyes were wide with concern.

But, before Ron could reach Harry, he stepped over the sunken square of D-3, apparently having forgotten that he had removed the tile, and tripped, stumbling forward into a face-plant onto the glowing stone chessboard. Harry took a deep breath and then took aim at Ron's back, firing a flash of red from the tip of his wand that left Ron lifeless until McGonagall finished counting to ten.

"Potter wins!" cried Lee. George was shaking his head with a pitying look. "_Harry Potter wins!_"

The audience was on their feet, chanting Harry's name and waving their fists in the air while screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Wot the hell was that?" asked Merlin from his portrait, looking at Ron. "Are you twonked, boy?"

"I had you, Potter," grumbled Ron into Harry's ear. They were both limping off the board, supporting each other.

"_Almost_." Harry grinned.

"There'll be a small interlude before the final match so the finalists can rest," explained Lee. "And so the battlefield can be fixed."

"Are you alright?" asked Hermione as she examined Ron's ankle. "Oh, you shouldn't have done that! Both of you!"

"I'm fine," said Ron. "Just do me a favor: beat him, won't you?"

"I'll try." Hermione managed a smile. "You two were displaying some really powerful magic."

"I thought I was sailing quite smoothly until I came across that bloody hole," grumbled Ron, sitting down on the bottom row of the stands, next to Neville.

"You dug your own grave," said Harry. "That's the square you used as a shield."

"Oh hell," replied Ron, swatting his forehead with his palm. "Was it? I guess I was hoisted by my own guitar."

Ron tilted his head in confusion as Harry and Dean cackled, while Hermione smiled, on the verge of laughter.

"What?" asked Ron. "What's so funny?"

"It's 'pitard,' Ron." Hermione sat beside Ron and nudged him, smirking.

"You 'ad to go and fall!" cried a distressed voice farther up in the stands. "I lost fifteen Galleons on that match!"

Ron looked up to see a grizzled-looking ginger-haired man with grinding teeth and a shaking fist.

"Why'd yeh go n' bet against Harry Potter then, Dung?" barked Hagrid, cupping his massive hands over his mouth for added volume.

"It's called home-field advantage!" replied Mundungus.

"Oh, he's jus' a fool," said Hagrid, waving his hand dismissively. "He don't got fifteen Galleons ter bet in the firs' place."

"Ladies and gentlemen," spoke the amplified voice of Lee Jordan. "I'm told by Demelza, who's just agreed to go out on a date with me, that the final match is about to start!"

"She's too young for ya, Riv," said George.

"Ready, Hermione?" said Harry. Hermione nodded.

"Harry," said Ron, "go easy on her, please."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up at that, then she crossed her arms when Harry nodded his agreement.

"You can be a real prat sometimes," said Ginny as Harry and Hermione left to approach the board. "Just because you lost—"

"You can be so bloody clueless at times," Ron retorted. "I'm only throwing a few peppers in the soup, see, giving Hermione a bit of added determination, 'cause that's when she gets scary."

"The finalists are Hermione Granger and Harry Potter," said Lee while Harry and Hermione took their positions on the giant chessboard. "You know the stats, so let's go to Dagger for the breakdown of how these two will match up."

"Harry's known for his dueling; he's simply skilled at the finer points of waving your wand at someone," said George. "On the other hand, Hermione Granger's face, when it isn't being slobbered on by my brother, can usually be found buried in a book. She's got an advantage of cleverness."

"Excellent breakdown," said Lee. "Compelling and rich."

"Thank you, River."

"You're very welcome, Dagger."

"I'm grateful to be welcomed so verily, Riv."

"Your gratitude brings me joy, Dag."

"Er—well, we're just waiting for the whistle here," said Percy as he cast George and Lee an odd look.

McGonagall's whistle blew, and the room instantly lit up with the flashes of several rapid-fire Stunners. Harry and Hermione were strafing around each other, firing waves of energy that crashed upon hitting the stone wall or marble floor. Harry was firing several shots consecutively like a machinegun while Hermione, having mastered slightly more advanced magic, was firing spread-fire bursts of three stunners at a time.

"_Protego!_" cried Hermione, pointing her wand to the ceiling creating a faint blue forcefield around her that deflected Harry's barrage of curses.

"There's that Shield Charm again!" said Lee.

"Well, that's her strongest muscle, isn't it?" said George. "To execute it, she has to point at the ceiling; think of how many times her hand's shot in the air during class."

The crowd burst into laughter, but Hermione was unfazed. Through the glint of her Shield Charm, she saw a spark of amber, and dropped her guard, letting the forcefield disintegrate. Across from her, Harry was creating a large, convulsing ball of fire nearly as big as his body. There were flowing rifts in the air from the intense heat, blurring Harry's face. Hermione raised her wand to stun him, but was too late, as the fireball was already rocketing in her direction.

"Harry's used an Infernum!" said Lee. "He throws a fire blast at Granger!"

"_Geoseismus!_" cried Hermione, flicking her wand towards the ground.

The earth began to quake as one of the slabs of stone that tiled the checkered platform flipped out of place, and, from its earthy sunken square, a large cone pillar of dirt arose to absorb Harry's fire blast. Hermione crouched against the mound of dirt, panting heavily, safe from Harry's spells.

"Hermione conjures a tower of earth and blocks the fireball!" shouted Lee, barely audible over the roar of the audience.

"_Accio glasses!_" shouted Hermione, swishing her wand from behind her earthy bunker. Harry's glasses flew off of his face and into her hands.

"Hermione's stolen Potter's glasses!" said Lee.

"Great tactic," observed George.

"It's a cheap tactic!" complained Percy. "You don't just take a man's spectacles!"

"Still going easy on me, are you?" shouted Hermione. Harry smirked.

"_Reducto!_" he said; his curse hit the mound of dirt and exploded into a brown mist.

When the smoke cleared, Harry, with his limited vision, saw a peculiar sight: several blurred yellow blips were darting in his direction. He soon felt the sharp stings of many beaks pecking at him from all angles. Harry wildly attempted to bat Hermione's canaries away with both hands, but only found that he was feeding his arms to them more efficiently.

"She's conjured canaries!" Lee observed. "And sweet Myrtle's ghost, they're vicious!"

"Leave some for me!" growled Hermione to her birds as she ran towards Harry, who had yelped in fright at the fierce tone of her voice.

Then, in an instant, all of the birds vanished, and Harry saw an overwhelming wave of red light encompass him before he lost consciousness.

"Hermione wins!" shouted Lee, just after McGonagall finished her count. "_Hermione __Granger is the new champion!_"

The crowd was flooding down from the stands to pile around the board, jumping and cheering at the bushy-haired champion, who had collapsed onto the dirt-covered ground and was breathing heavily. Ron got to her first, and lifted her into his arms, squeezing her against his chest.

"Very well done!" shouted a revived Harry over the crowd's ear-splitting clamor.

"You too, Harry!" yelled Hermione, smiling, as Harry crushed both Hermione and Ron in a tight hug.

"That was _bloody_ brilliant!" cheered Ron. "_Leave some for me..._ Merlin!"

"_Wot?_" asked Merlin himself from his portrait. Ron ignored him, still staring at the blushing Hermione with admiration.

"Oh, I know!" said Luna. "Group hug!"

Luna threw her arms around Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and they were soon joined by Ginny, Neville, Hagrid, and the rest of Dumbledore's Army.

"Party in the common room, I say!" declared Seamus. "Er, if you'll allow it, that is, Professor," he added when McGonagall gave him a sharp look.

"Hang on, guys!" said Dennis. "All Hogwarts staff and Dumbledore's Army stay! Everyone else, out!"

Dennis commanded no response from the crowd until Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and said "You heard Mister Creevey."

There was a collective sigh from the students and spectators, who reluctantly agreed to file out of the room. Dennis hopped off of the board and jogged over to the stands, where he retrieved a large antique camera from his school bag.

"It belonged to Colin," he explained. "I want a picture of all of Dumbledore's Army. It'll go up on the board with the pictures of the Order of the Phoenix and Cedric and the Dobby hat. Since this is the last time we'll be in here this year, we should make sure the board stays up. A Permanent Sticking Charm should do."

"Good idea," said Zacharias, straightening his tie.

"Here, take this," said George, handing Zacharias a light-brown wad of candy. "It'll clear your skin up."

"Ready?" said Dennis, tinkering with the old magical camera.

"No," said Professor McGonagall. She turned to Hermione and handed her a large sack that jangled with the clanging of coins. "The prize money, Miss Granger. I trust you'll spend it wisely."

"That's gonna buy a lot of old boring books," said Ron, who had insisted upon carrying Hermione off the chessboard bridal-style.

"Let's shoot this thing," said Seamus.

"All right," said Harry. "That's everyone, isn't it?"

"No, it isn't," said George. He promptly spat on the wall behind them. "That represents Marietta."

"Alright," said Dennis. He hurried to join the group. "Three... two... Zach? What's happened to your tongue?"

_*click*_

The camera spewed a puff of acrid black smoke, and spat out a large photograph. From left to right, it featured Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, the Patil Twins, the spit wad called Marietta, Michael Corner standing beside Cho Chang, the massive Rubeus Hagrid, the beaming George Weasley who stood over the heaving Zacharias who was on the ground nursing an engorged tongue, the equally beaming Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, the tiny Professor Flitwick who was examining Zacharias with concern, and the six leaders of Dumbledore's Army, with Hermione holding the prize money high in the air from within Ron's arms.

On the right side, there was Ernie Macmillan, who was passing off his stepping on Zacharias's tongue as an accident, Justin Finch-Fletchley who was laughing at Smith's misfortune, Dennis Creevey, Terry Boot, Lavender Brown, an anxious Seamus Finnegan, a jovial Dean Thomas, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Anthony Goldstein, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor Slughorn whose walrus mustache was curled into a smile as wide as his belly, Professor Sprout and her warm smile, and a faintly grinning Minerva McGonagall.

Above them, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey, Albus Dumbledore, Merlin, and many of Hogwarts' more active painted figures smiled happily from Merlin's portrait. Snape was present, but nowhere close to a smile. Flanking the portrait were two ghosts: Nearly Headless Nick, whose head was hanging by an inch or so of skin and flesh, and Moaning Myrtle, who was taking great joy in Zacharias Smith's suffering.

* * *

A/N: For fun, I drew the tournament bracket. That's the sort of thing I do for fun. It's at i46 dot tinypic dot com slash 30c3ukx dot jpg


	22. Goodnight, Kids

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

"Ron,let me down this instant!" Hermione cried as she was carried up the stone steps to the boys dormitory.

"Go on, Ron!" cheered Fred.

Ron chuckled, tightening his grasp over the flailing Hermione, while opening the door to the dormitory with the other hand. Hermione had given up pounding her fists against his back when they entered the empty cylindrical room and arrived at the circuit of four-poster beds. Ron tossed Hermione over his bed like a ragdoll, then walked back to the door and drew his wand.

"What was the spell again?" asked Ron, scratching his chin in thought. "To lock doors?"

"You know the spell." Hermione crossed her arms. "What's this all about?"

"Isn't it obvious?" replied Ron, after sealing the door. Hermione's stony glare faltered at Ron's grin.

"So the moment you hear word of classes being canceled you drag me up here for a snog?" Hermione laid back down on her elbows as Ron approached. "You didn't have to make a spectacle of the whole thing."

"Yeah, I reckon that's the mistake that bloke made with the Elder Wand," said Ron, as he carefully crawled onto the bed, looming over Hermione. "Oh well."

"No." Hermione looked away as Ron swept in, so that his lips missed hers and connected with her cheek. "Not _oh well._ Everyone's going to think that we're having... _intercourse, _right here in the dormitory!"

"Intercourse?" Ron stared blankly.

"Sex." Hermione wiggled, attempting to get comfortable under Ron. "They might even be listening to us right now."

"If they are, then they know we're just talking." Ron began kissing her neck. "I don't want everyone to think I'm up here... _talking_ with you. Think of what they'll say!"

"Seamus might say 'at least me bed's safe.'"

"What?" Ron looked up to see Seamus's belongings on the bedside table. "Oh. Mine's the next one over."

"It doesn't matter," said Hermione. "I don't want to do that in school."

"I know." Ron put his hands in his pockets, watching her stand.

"Not that I wouldn't mind a snog." Hermione threw her arms around Ron's shoulders and stood on her toes to reach his lips. "Clothes stay, though."

After a long while passed, Ron found himself pushed by Hermione against the door that led to the common room, linked at the mouth, with her hands tugging at his hair. It was his last day as a Hogwarts student, and Ron was determined to make it a good one.

* * *

"Go on, Ron!" shouted Fred.

Harry smirked as he watched Ron carry Hermione up the stairs. Beside him, Seamus was hustling a young Gryffindor girl at a game of Wizard's Chess. Dean was building a house of Exploding Snap cards on the windowsill with disastrous results. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were discussing something with Neville by the portrait hole as they examined the end-of-the-year items on the bulletin board.

It looked like an ordinary day at Gryffindor tower, but beneath the surface were emotions. Sadness at the end of an era, hope for the future, all sobered by the scars left in the hearts and minds of those affected by the war.

Harry found himself surveying the common room with an attention to detail he had not used since he was a wide-eyed first year. Memory-inducing details such as the portrait of the first ever Gryffindor Quidditch captain or that throw pillow with the burnt edges that had found itself in the fireplace courtesy of an errant toss by Angelina Johnson. Harry wallowed in all the moments he had shared both alone and with his friends, talking and reading letters and playing games with Ron while Hermione either watched quietly or, if there was homework due, not so quietly.

"It's our last day," said Ginny, breaking Harry from his thoughts. "I don't even want to think about what they're doing up there."

"Ron and Hermione? It can't be what you're thinking," said Harry. "Hermione wouldn't do that in school."

"Logically, no, but she might lose control when my brother does whatever it is that he does that prevents her from running away in disgust."

"Don't give him such a hard time," said Harry, still gazing around the room. "He was pretty popular with the ladies in our sixth year. He might have been so this year if he didn't look like an Inferi four days of the month and stopped reminding the 'monkeys' he's Head Boy."

"He was unbearable. He still is."

"I agree." Harry stood up when Neville caught his eye across the room. "Neville!" he called.

"What is it?" asked Neville when he reached Harry.

"Care to accompany me to Hagrid's for one last meeting of Dumbledore's Army's elite?"

"Elite?" Neville smirked. "I'll get Luna then."

"You're going to Hagrid's?" asked Ginny, standing up. "I thought we were going to do something special today."

"We are. Hagrid's is special." Ginny raised an eyebrow, and Harry narrowed his eyes.

"I know." Ginny forced a smile. "I thought we could walk around the school. You know, get one last look at everything before we go. Maybe get some alone time..."

"Not today." Harry looked past Ginny to see Ron and Hermione sneaking back into the common room while Fred was busy chasing Hagar the Honorable's pet pig through the portraits on the far wall.

"What's going on?" asked Hermione, her cheeks growing pink at Harry's smirk.

"We're going down to Hagrid's."

"Brilliant." She and Ron ducked through the portrait hole and out of the common room before anyone could tease them.

Harry shared a simper with his redheaded girlfriend and followed her through the portrait hole. They jogged down the fickle grand staircase to catch up to Ron and Hermione, and found them at the base of the towering staircase in conversation with Neville and a girl who was barely recognizable as a person but unmistakably Luna Lovegood.

She was wearing her large crooked witch's hat, with its sky-blue color and puffy white cloud design. Covering her eyes were her oversized Spectrespecs, with their golden owl's eye frame, icy blue right lens and bright pink left lens. Around her neck was her smiley-face pendant, which now had _B.A.B._ carved on its yellow forehead.

"Supporting the Bandits, are you?" asked Harry.

Luna smiled and shook her head. The six leaders of Dumbledore's Army began making their way through the clocktower courtyard towards Hagrid's hut.

"I lost it while kissing Neville on Sherman Roque's desk. They added the insignia and returned it to me." Luna held the pendant up, examining it, while Neville stared at the floor with red cheeks. "I like it, actually."

"You could write 'stinks' right below it," suggested Ron. Harry cleared his throat. "Er, not that that's a nice thing to do to someone..."

They made their way through to the clocktower courtyard. Feeling sentimental, Harry recalled watching Sirius escape from the corrupt Ministry of Magic from this very courtyard, flying off into the night with Buckbeak the Hippogriff.

"Hello, Mr. Filch," said Harry suddenly. He strolled over to the grizzled caretaker who was fishing a dead crow out of the fountain at the center of the courtyard. "How are we today?"

"What do _you_ want?" grunted Filch, chucking the crow carcass into a cloth bag. "Distractin' me, are you?"

"No, sir," said Harry, as Filch looked around for any sign of mischief. "It's the last day, you know."

"I know, Potter," mumbled Filch. "Mark me calender every year for it."

"I'm sure you do," said Harry, smiling wistfully as his fellow D.A. leaders caught up to him. "But for me, it's the last day I'll ever spend at Hogwarts as a student."

"Is it, now?" asked Filch, raising an eyebrow. "You only bin' here eight years. Thought you'd never be outta my hair."

"I want you to admit it."

"What are you on about?"

"Admit you love us students. You loved Fred." Harry's five friends cast bewildered looks to each other, except for Luna, whose expression wasn't readable behind her giant Spectrespecs.

"You're barking." Filch made to walk away, but Harry followed.

"Harry, let's go," warned Ginny.

"Admit it, Mr. Filch. You give us a hard time but you know deep down you like us and you're going to be sad to see us go."

"Sad? _Sad?_" Filch chuckled once. "Sad not to have to clean up any more of your blood and soot, or the messes that one leaves whenever he eats?" He pointed at Ron.

"But at the same time—"

"No, Potter. Don't bother me again or it's detention." To Harry's surprise, Filch had the faintest hint of a grin when he hobbled off into the clocktower.

"Barking up the wrong tree there, mate," said Ron. Harry smiled. "Come on, Harry, let's go to Hagrid's."

* * *

"'Lo guys! I see the whole gang's here," said Hagrid brightly when he spotted Harry and company descending the hill.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry. "Hello, Buckbeak!"

Hermione was the first to reach the half-giant, and threw her arms around his waist in a hug, nuzzling her head into his apron. Harry, Ginny, and Ron approached the Hippogriff called Buckbeak, stopping for the customary bow, and were sure to pet his beak as long as they were near him. Neville and Luna greeted Hagrid cheerfully, though less affectionately than Hermione.

"What brings yeh here?" asked Hagrid.

"As it's the last day, I felt it congruent to the occasion to call a little meeting of Dumbledore's Army leaders," said Harry in an mock-serious tone.

"Good idea," said Hagrid, directing the six D.A. leaders into his small home. Harry noticed the doorknob was severely scratched. "Go on in, I was jus' makin' Scorpagog's favorite grasshopper salad."

"Oh, of course you'd be chopping grasshoppers," said Ginny with a lurch.

Hagrid laughed jovially and put a large, shiny copper kettle over the fire as the students sat at the big round wooden table that took up a large chunk of the hut's space. Hagrid then stuck his head out of the window by the sink and called Scorpagog's name. There was a faint creaking noise when the scorpion opened the gate to his pen and began scurrying around to the door of the hut.

"Migh' wanna brace yerself," said Hagrid, with a glance to Neville. "There's goin' ter be a big scorpion walkin' in here."

"Nothing could be worse than the Skrewts," mumbled Neville.

Soon, there was a rattling at the door; it began to shake wildly. The knob was turning left and right, just barely short of unhinging the door. After a few moments, it creaked open to reveal a massive burnt-looking brown scorpion with one of its large claws clamped over the doorknob. Neville and Ginny recoiled and slid their chairs away from the massive insect. Scorpagog was to scorpions as Hagrid was to humans: a colossus.

"'Lo, Ron," said Scorpagog.

"How's it going, Scorpy?" asked Ron, accepting a mug of tea from Hagrid. "You ever catch that beetle?"

"'Fraid not," said Scorpagog. Hagrid slid a plate of shredded grasshoppers on the floor before him. "I'm not one fer footraces."

"Hello, Scorpagog," said Harry, smiling.

"'Lo, Harry. Hermione. The rest of yeh." Scorpagog returned to scooping piles of crickets into his mouth with his pincers.

"Scorpy!" admonished Hagrid. "Where're yer manners? Interduce yerself to the guests. Go on!"

"Sorry," said Scorpagog. "What's yer name?"

Ginny introduced herself. Scorpagog offered his claw, but Ginny opted to bow instead.

"Ron's mentioned yeh," said Scorpagog. "N' you must be Luna."

"Yes," said Luna. She approached confidently and shook Scorpagog's claw. Then, without warning or reason, as was how she performed most of her actions, she removed her dazzling Spectrespecs and placed them over Scorpagog's beady eyes. Harry laughed uproariously at the sight.

"Those are for you." Luna smiled.

Neville introduced himself to Scorpagog, who was now attempting to shake away the Spectrespecs. He shook Scorpagog's claw for a brief moment before returning to the far end of the room.

"McGonagall's gone n' discovered him," said Hagrid, gesturing towards the feasting insect.

"Good," said Hermione. "I don't like keeping things from the headmistress."

"The other day, Millicent Bulstrode didn't wash her hands after using the toilet," said Ron. "The headmistress was alerted immediately."

"It's unsanitary!" protested Hermione. She looked at Hagrid. "What were her feelings on the matter?"

"She went n' talked with the portraits in her office. 'Bout four hours later, she came back tellin' me I couldn't teach the seventh-years with him."

"Bollocks," said Harry. "That's much better than anything Grubbly-Plank has to show them."

"Wilhelmina's a good educator," said Hagrid. "Jus' goes by the book a bit too much fer my likin'."

Hermione shifted in her seat, casting nervous glances at her friends. She'd made it clear in the past that she preferred the methods of Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"I sure am gonna miss yeh. I remember when I firs' met you lot," said Hagrid. "Biggest bunch o' misfits I'd ever seen. 'Sept for yer brothers a'course."

Hagrid glanced at a clock by his bed, then crouched down to rummage through a cupboard and withdrew a big wooden crate from it. It rattled like a box of beer bottles when moved.

"Best be takin' this box o' Murtlap essence ter Pomfrey. Essential ingredient in Healing potions, yeh know. Care ter join me?"

The seven Dumbledore's Army leaders trudged up the hill to the stone circle. They passed the formation of rocks, and Harry caught sight of the Owlery. It was a tall stone tower, similar to a lighthouse, with a long spiral staircase that wrapped around it. It had three floors, all filled with small compartments that were home to the school owls as well as those of the students. As Harry had no outgoing post today, this may be the last time he'd ever see it as a student.

"Quidditch. I'll miss it," said Ron. Harry stepped over to his point of view and saw the tall hoops and stands of the Quidditch pitch.

"You can still play Quidditch, Ron," said Hermione, in an attempt at an uplifting tone. "Just not for Gryffindor."

"You just don't understand," said Ron.

It was true: Hermione didn't understand the value of Quidditch. To Ron, it was a childhood obsession, at which Hogwarts gave him a chance to excel. In all her modesty, Hermione failed to realize that Quidditch was one of few things at which Ron is superior to her, and, unless he made a career out of it, his Quidditch skills would cease being celebrated the moment he left Hogwarts. They'd played their last game, and now the King was dead.

To Harry, it was a remedy to his fears of failing to live up to the expectations of the wizarding world. Harry never felt he was any match for his own legend, but his Quidditch skills were undeniable.

"Never got to play it meself," said Hagrid, shrugging.

"There's the Owlery too," said Ron. "Not many memories there, though. Harry, do you have any to share?"

"No," said Harry quickly, Ginny raised an eyebrow. "None, really. Just stopped by there for the post. Never wrote them there."

"Wasn't there something?" asked Hermione. "Some sort of thing that happened that you immediately told us about?"

"This doesn't sound good," said Neville. "What'd you do?"

"Cho," said Harry. Ginny's jaw dropped. "No! I mean, I _talked_ with Cho—back when I fancied her—but the reason I told Ron and Hermione about it was because Filch said he'd gotten a tip that I was setting off Dungbombs."

"Not ter interrupt," said Hagrid, holding up the wooden crate of phials. "But can we get goin'?"

On his way across the bridge, Harry glanced down at the Black Lake below, and wondered if the Triwizard Tournament would return to Hogwarts in his lifetime. Considering the weight of Cedric's death looming over the event's reputation, Harry concluded that it wouldn't be reformed until hundreds of years after Cedric's friends and family passed away. Harry thought himself both lucky and unfortunate that it reared its head again during his years at Hogwarts.

They ambled through the walkway that connected the clocktower to the hospital wing. A few students were playing Gobstones by the double doors of the infirmary. When they entered, Hagrid walked over to Madam Pomfrey's office carrying the crate of Murtlap essence, while the six D.A. leaders surveyed the room's many beds, with their off-white sheets and racks of handy potions.

Only one of the beds was occupied, by a slumbering black boy with round eyes. Harry recognized him as the Gryffindor first-year Con Castle.

"What d'you think happened to him?" asked Ginny, frowning.

"His foot's been bandaged," observed Hermione.

"I saw him climbing out by the paved courtyard earlier," said Luna, her protuberant eyes glancing through a window out at the mountains on the horizon. "Perhaps he fell."

Con stirred, then sat up, rubbing his groggy eyes with his fists.

"Con?" asked Harry. "What happened?"

"Bandits," said Con, patting his shin.

"They attacked you?" asked Ron, sounding eager.

"No. They're keeping a Portable Swamp up on the high wall. I climbed up there to get it myself, but I fell."

"_That's_ where that went!" said Neville suddenly, his eyes wide. "They stole it! The Portable Swamp I bought from the joke shop!"

"We'll have to—" began Hermione.

"Alert the headmistress," finished Ron.

"First, let's return our books to the library," said Harry.

"Should we wait for Hagrid?" asked Neville.

Through the window of Madam Pomfrey's office, Hagrid could be seen throwing back a large mug of ale, laughing merrily along with Pomfrey, who had been in the best of spirits since the D.A. Dueling Tournament ended.

"She's broken out the drink," said Harry. "We'd might as well leave."

Harry and his friends left through the oak double-doors, walked through the clocktower, past the great hall, and through to the Hufflepuff basement. Nearly Headless Nick was reciting the Hogwarts School Song to an unfamiliar ghost who followed him through one wall of the dungeon and out through the other.

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts, teach us something please!_"

"Hi!" said Justin Finch-Fletchley, as he walked out of the Hufflepuff common room, followed by Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot.

"Hello," said Luna. The two groups greeted each other kindly.

"It is rather sad," said Ernie. "This is the last day. I remember our Sorting. Good times."

"We were just going to the kitchens," said Hermione. "I haven't seen the House Elves since they've started receiving the payment they rightly deserve."

"Hermione," said Hannah. "Did you know that Helga Hufflepuff had the House Elves work in the kitchens to save them from abuse?"

"Yes, well, they were still enslaved," said Hermione, sticking her chin up haughtily. "But Ron put a stop to that. I'm just shocked it's taken this long for a Head Boy to effect a change on these barbaric systems."

Ron whistled as he walked by the still painting of the basket of fruit that acted as a door to the kitchens and tickled the pear with his knuckles. It wiggled and formed a doorknob.

"How'd you do it?" asked Justin.

Harry paid close attention to Ron's response; he'd never thought to find out how he accomplished a feat even Hermione couldn't in convincing McGonagall to pay the House Elves.

"It's all thanks to your Gran," said Ron, nodding to Neville. "I mentioned the story about McGonagall's little midnight rendezvous in the library—ended up opening a whole can of worms. Couldn't get your gran to stop talking if I wanted to. So it was a simple matter of parlaying that information into some Knuts for the House Elves here..."

"You _blackmailed_ Professor McGonagall!" shouted Hermione, outraged.

"Um." Ron looked around, struggling to muster up the resourcefulness to find an escape from his fuming girlfriend and the hot steam that threatened to billow from her ears.

"Look!" cried Luna. "A Blibbering Humdinger!"

The Hufflepuffs turned around, searching for the creature, but Hermione wasn't fooled.

"Thanks anyway," said Ron. Luna smiled and skipped into the kitchens. "Come on, Hermione. We can't spend our last day here feuding."

"It would be rather fitting," commented Harry as he passed them into the kitchens. Ginny and Neville followed, leaving Ron and Hermione standing by the entrance after the Hufflepuffs had gone.

"Fine." Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry's back. "We'll prove them wrong."

"Excellent." Ron leaned in to kiss her lips, but was once again given the dreaded cheek.

After Hermione huffed and trotted off into the kitchens, Ron followed, mumbling grumpily. The kitchens were vast with very high ceilings, similar to the great hall directly above. There were clusters of gleaming brass pots, pans, and other cooking instruments hanging on the gray stone walls, and four long wooden tables were placed in the exact same positions as the House tables above. On the other end of the room, there were tables set up to represent the staff table, and a big flickering fire within a brick fireplace. New to the kitchens was a narrow portrait the size of a door mounted on the east wall.

"Master Harry!" said Kreacher, startled. He hobbled over to the six D.A. leaders, his white pillowcase stained with red and brown in several places. Behind him, Winky eyed Harry, Ron, and Hermione, looking unsure, but eventually decided to go back to work. "Kreacher was not aware Master would visit!"

"I have a job for you, Kreacher," said Harry after his friends greeted the mumbling House Elf and moved on to Fred's portrait. "Just a quick errand."

"Yes, Master Harry?"

"I want you to Apparate to the high wall above the paved courtyard and retrieve the Portable Swamp that's been placed up there, and give it to Neville."

"Straight away, Master Harry." Kreacher disappeared with a _*crack*_.

"What'd you ask him to do?" asked Ron when Harry met up with them by Fred's portrait. "You know he's busy, don't you? They're making the end-of-the-year feast!"

"Don't worry, Ron, you'll still be dual-wielding chicken drumsticks by tonight," said Harry, grinning. Hermione's anger eased up a bit as she smiled. "I just asked him to go nick that Portable Swamp."

_*pop*_

"I've failed, Master Harry!" cried Kreacher. "I could not locate the object!"

"It's fine, Kreacher." Harry patted the grizzled House Elf's back, and he relaxed slightly. "The Bandits must have moved it when Con tried to scale the wall."

"Sniggers," said Ginny, when Fred demanded to hear the password. Fred smiled and opened to admit Ginny to the secret passage that led to Gryffindor common room.

Ron tried to follow, but Fred's portrait slammed shut in his face. He stumbled back, holding his nose, as his friends giggled covertly.

"What the bloody hell was that!" Ron rubbed his long nose.

"Password?" asked Fred, smirking.

"Ginny's just told you the password!"

"Yes. _Ginny's_ just told me the password. You haven't."

"Sniggers." Fred's frame swing open, letting Ron in. "Cheeky git."

The other D.A. leaders were admitted after Ron without hesitation, which served to further annoy him. The passage, it turned out, was a charmed wooden elevator, almost as small as a phone booth. It had no lighting. The D.A. leaders packed into the small booth, where Ginny was waiting, and found themselves crammed against the walls, barely fitting into the elevator before it began its ascent.

"I've never been to your common room before," said Luna, her lips rubbing against a wall, sounding strained, as if she were experiencing one of Hagrid's bear hugs. "Is it nice there? Ours is never too lively, unless we win at Quidditch, which isn't often."

"It's very lively," squeaked Hermione. "Someone's elbow is digging into my back."

"That would be mine," said Ginny. "Sorry. I could move it if I wasn't being crammed in this corner by someone's shoulder."

"That's my elbow," said Ron. "Someone's stepping on my foot."

No one confessed.

"Oh, wait, that's my other foot..."

A small bell chimed above them when they arrived at the Gryffindor common room and Fred opened his other portrait so that they stumbled out of the elevator like the contents of an overflowing closet, tripping over each other and scattering onto a bloodred rug. Dean and Seamus whistled from across the room, where they were configuring a small radio cabinet to tune into Potterwatch.

"Ron, can you help me here?" asked Seamus, tinkering with the wooden device.

"Can't," said Ron. "We're depositing our books at the library."

"Can't get it workin'," mumbled Seamus. "Oh, Hermione, mind running my books down to there too? You've got that bag..."

"Oh, fine." Hermione withdrew her beaded bag from her pocket and placed it at the center of the table by the window. "How about you, Dean? Can I be your trolley this afternoon?"

"As a matter of fact, you can do," said Dean brightly. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Hey, she's my trolley and no one else's," said Ron.

Dean jogged up the stairs to the boys' dormitory and returned with a copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_, which he stuffed into Hermione's small bag.

"That's all I've got." Dean smiled. "There's a good lass. Top of the mornin'."

"I told you to stop that," warned Seamus as he stowed his borrowed books in Hermione's bag.

The group once again descended the grand staircase and walked through the Charms corridor towards the library. On their way, they came across a malevolent cackle they knew to belong to Peeves the Poltergeist. He hopped around a corner and through the corridor, stopping briefly to acknowledge Harry.

"Why are you so happy?" asked Harry.

"Potty!" Peeves sat cross-legged in mid-air. "Conny wanted to play Exploding Snap and found himself exploded! Ha-ha!"

"You know it's my last day here. After today, I won't be coming back."

"A shame it is, Potty boy! You caused much distress, you did. But I have seen more painful goodbyes in my day."

"Peeves," said Hermione. "It sounded like you were confessing to attacking Con Castle. Is that what happened?"

"Did you take the Portable Swamp from the paved courtyard?" added Neville.

"Silence! Let old Peevesie think... Hm... Portable Swamp... Alas!"

Peeves dropped to the ground and gripped the rug beneath the six students, then flew into the air, whipping the ground out from under their feet and causing them to fall flat on their rears; Hermione's beaded bag made a booming thud. He flew through the end of the corridor carrying the rug like a cape and rattling the suits of armor before disappearing around a corner.

"Scintillatingly witty, that one," mumbled Ginny, rubbing her bum. "Come on, the library closes early on the last day."

"Don't suppose any of you want to go to the Chamber of Secrets?" offered Ron, nodding towards Myrtle's bathroom. "I'm your only ticket inside, after all."

"I'll pass," said Ginny with a shiver.

After depositing their books along with those of Seamus and Dean, they stopped to admire the Hogwarts library, and all the knowledge it gave them through Hermione. Hermione walked over to her favorite spot, and sat down in a seat by the window to observe the view.

"This is my favorite spot," said Hermione as Ron approached. The rest of their friends were depositing the books out of Hermione's bag.

"I know." Ron smiled. "Bet you must have a lot of memories here."

"Just studying. Researching Nicolas Flamel. That's about it." Hermione looked back to the window, hiding her blush from Ron.

"This is where you snogged Krum, isn't it?" guessed Ron. Hermione nodded without looking at him. "Tell me about it."

"What?" Hermione turned around quickly, her eyes darting to Ron's. "Why?"

"I asked." Ron sat down beside her. "Spill it."

"I'm not giving you another chance to vent your silly hatred towards Viktor. You'll just get more upset."

"Nothing's worse than what I think happened here. Illuminate me."

"You know what happened. It was after the Yule Ball."

"Go on..."

"He was watching me study—don't ask me to explain; I have no idea why he wanted to. He moved closer to me and kissed me. He leaned on me and I almost fell out of this window."

"What'd you do?"

"I kissed him, he smiled, then I went back to my research of Cheering charms."

"That's it? Just the once?" Ron displayed a relieved smile.

"Yes." Hermione stood and stepped past Ron. "Which is more than you can say about your little escapades with Lavender, so don't you dare be resentful."

"Resentful? I'm overjoyed!" Ron threw an arm around her shoulders and tugged her against his chest while she rolled her eyes. "And Lavender and I were nothing. Other girls, Hermione, you stick your hand in their hair and it's too easy to get it out!"

"This is your romantic side?"

"I'm a romeo at heart. Just one kiss, eh? I think we should alert the headmistress of this!"

* * *

"Another year gone," said Professor McGonagall over the golden owl-shaped podium in the Great Hall, addressing the army of students. "And what an eventful year it was. I have a few announcements before we become befuddled by our feast."

Harry recognized that she was quoting Dumbledore, and shared a grin with Ron and Hermione. It appeared that Professor McGonagall would continue the traditions and methods of the greatest sorcerer of the age. The great hall was filled to capacity with black-robed, hungry students, and the ceiling, bewitched to show the sky above, displayed a crystal-clear summer night, with the moon so big and full Harry suspected the tip of the Astronomy tower might brush against it. As such, Ron had shadows under his eyes and his teeth were growing yellow, but the promise of a feast kept him energized.

"The first pertains to a new school rule," continued McGonagall. "Students may not scale the school's walls, for safety purposes."

Several students glanced at Con, who smiled sheepishly.

"The second regards Dumbledore's Army." Harry and his friends sat up and stared attentively. "As you may know, today marks the final day the leaders of Dumbledore's Army shall spend at Hogwarts. They intended to pass the torch to another student, but I have intervened, and, after a discussion with its founder and champion, Miss Hermione Granger, I have decided to provide staff endorsement to the club. It is now an official Hogwarts School Club. The Dumbledore's Army Dueling Tournament shall be held once every three years to those with sufficient Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s."

Several members of Dumbledore's Army cheered, and Harry found the stares of hundreds of pairs of eyes upon him and his friends.

"Let the feast begin."

Harry was delighted to find that Kreacher had made sure to place the treacle tart directly in front of him, and vowed to thank the House Elf later, perhaps with some sort of serpentine piece of silverware. Ron was wolfing down chicken drumsticks two at a time, while Hermione was too busy nibbling on ham, her favorite food, to scowl at his messiness. After the stomach of every student was filled, Professor McGonagall tapped her spoon against her goblet to quiet the room.

"And now, the tally of House points. After awarding Miss Granger thirty points for winning the Dueling Tournament, Gryffindor is victorious once again, with four hundred and sixty-five points. Ravenclaw is in second with four hundred and twenty points, Slytherin in third with three hundred and ninety-nine, and Hufflepuff in last with—er—twelve points."

The Battle-Axe Bandits beamed proudly; Ernie and Justin groaned miserably beside them.

"We'll see how they do without Potter," said Sean Albright, just loud enough for his voice to carry over to the Gryffindor table.

"Just bloody fine!" replied Con.

"Shame I can't deduct points now," said Ron. "I felt that little outburst should have cost Slytherin at least three hundred and ninety-eight points."

"Can't have everything in life," said Harry. "As a wise man once said."

* * *

When his head hit his pillow and Ron's loud snores began to emanate from the bed beside his, Harry's mind raced. This would be the last night he would spend in this room, sleeping in this bed. It would be the last night he shared with the castle that had given him so much, the castle that saved him from a horrible life and a terrible fate.

Never again would he have the option to go for midnight tea at Hagrid's under his cloak with Ron, or stay up while Hermione did his homework, or go out on the weekend for Quidditch practice. Never again would Harry Potter grab the Marauder's Map, don his Invisibility Cloak, gather his two best friends and set off on another adventure to save the school.

Harry had come to accept the end of his years at Hogwarts, and knew he'd always remain within the castle's walls in spirit. Both he and Hogwarts would forever remember one another. He'd tell stories of his adventures with Ron and Hermione to his turquoise-haired godson, and, some day, his children, before they went to Hogwarts themselves.

His place as one of the Golden Trio — a nickname he didn't care for; it was in the same vein as 'Boy Who Lived' and suchlike — would be forever reserved in the history books, and new students would continue to view the figurines of Ron, Hermione, and himself by the entrance to the great hall. The tradition of Dumbledore's Army had been sanctioned by McGonagall as part of the school, to be upheld by the teachers as well as the students. Students new and old would learn and practice under the photo of the original D.A. members, as well as the original Order of the Phoenix, Cedric Diggory, and Dobby's hat.

As for Dumbledore, Harry tried to concentrate on the portrait's last words to him as teacher to student: "Closure is a bitter medicine we must all drink."

Hermione had told Harry that he was currently in sixth place on the list of all-time House points earned, behind Albus Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, Filius Flitwick, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. Harry wondered where he'd be if it weren't for Professor Snape's extreme bias, which wasn't as heavy on Ron and Hermione, or even Professor McGonagall's and that of Dumbledore himself.

It wasn't glory Harry valued. Ron, perhaps, but not Harry, as he'd had more than enough of it over the years. Harry cherished his records in the books, his name scattered about the trophy room, and his likeness carved in stone by the entrance to the great hall, because of the connection it formed between the school and himself.

They'd done so much and gone so far that it was almost as if the school was theirs now. Harry wondered if the bond between Hogwarts and himself was so strong that, on a calm midnight, it might still echo the footsteps of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

* * *

A/N: This is not the last chapter. There will be one more. There's also going to be a sequel to this, so look out.


	23. Not Going Home, Not Really

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with Harry Potter or have any association with its publishers or distributors and I do not profit from writing fanfiction.

* * *

"Off yeh go!" barked Hagrid at the long line of black-robed students walking down the road to Hogsmeade Station. "Yer bags're already on the train!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna were sticking close to the massive half-giant as he bellowed orders to the unruly crowd of students. Harry caught a brief glimpse of a long tentacle rising from the surface of the nearby Great Lake and wondered if the Giant Squid was waving them goodbye.

"Goyle, puttem down!" warned Hagrid. Goyle turned around, still carrying the tiny Slytherin first-year Sean Albright.

"Wuh?" he replied.

"It's okay," said Sean. "I didn't want to get trampled."

"Oh, well, get goin'," said Hagrid. "All righ'! Go on n' board the train - single file, now - watch yer step."

"You guys go," said Harry, motioning for his fellow D.A. leaders to move on without him. "Find a compartment."

Harry nodded towards the outskirts of Hogsmeade village to a trail that led to Grawp's cave. "Tell him I said hello, will you?"

"'Course." Hagrid beamed.

"Best ter go soon," said Hagrid as Harry lingered by him for a few more moments, watching the students file into the vibrant scarlet steam engine. "Don' dally. Ain't the last time yeh'll come 'round Hogwarts, is it?"

"Definitely not." Harry smiled up at Hagrid. "I think it's about time I be the one to invite you over for tea. How's next Saturday sound?"

"Sounds great!" said Hagrid. "At Grimmauld Place?"

"I think so, yes," said Harry. "Goodbye, Hagrid. See you next week."

Harry hugged his gigantic friend tightly, but was unable to wrap his arms around him completely. Hagrid patted him on the shoulder; his knees nearly buckled from the force.

"Go on," said Hagrid. "See yeh then."

Meanwhile, the other five D.A. leaders found an empty compartment on the train and sat together quietly, glancing out of the compartment's windows at Harry and Hagrid. Neville was carrying Ron's starflower, which was shockingly bright, with its five transparent silver pedals that curled when the full moon was near. Its pedals were just beginning to unfold.

"He's been a real sap today," said Ron, nodding towards Harry. "When I woke up he told me he loved me. Then he did the same to Seamus."

"I can understand," said Hermione. "He considers Hogwarts his true home."

The door to the compartment slid open to reveal a grinning Harry. He held up a thick red book and waved it around slowly, giving everyone a chance to read the title. The book left snorts and scoffs in its wake as it traveled past the faces of the D.A. leaders. Luna's blaring cackle sounded throughout the entire train car, causing several students to peek into their compartment.

"_Harry Potter and the Interview with Rita Skeeter!_" howled Ginny, kicking her feet and clutching her sides in laughter.

"Because that was the real highlight of the year, wasn't it?" said Hermione, smirking.

"Let's see, Hungarian Horntails, underwater kidnappings, Sphinx riddles, giant spiders, Blast-Ended Skrewts," listed Ron, rubbing his chin with one hand and counting with the other. "Nah, the really important thing was that _ridiculous_ interview none of us remember!"

"Here," said Harry, catching his breath after a fit of chuckling. He threw the book to Hermione. "Get it out of my sight."

Hermione cracked the book open and glanced at the first page. "This is over twice as long as _Harry Potter and the Hungry Hippogriff._"

"Weird," said Harry. "She should at least be consistent. Who would do that?"

The train suddenly lurched forward and began to move; Harry did a sort of jig to maintain his balance, then sat down next to Ginny. They looked out the window to see Hogsmeade Station and the waving half-giant Hagrid sliding away, preceding sun-brightened green hills and curving dirt paths that led to cottages and farms in the distance.

"That's our fourth year?" asked Neville, nodding to the book. "You're not going to read that, are you?"

"Of course I am," said Harry. "It's hilarious. I wonder how long it'll take before my eyes start to glisten with the ghosts of my past."

"That's actually in the first sentence," said Hermione as she turned a page in the book.

"Oh." Neville looked down. "Just so long as you know it's rubbish."

"Of course. What's the matter?"

"He kissed Ginny," said Luna, without looking away from the window. The train was currently passing clusters of cows scattered within a large pen.

"_Wot?_" Harry sat straight with a start, staring at Neville. Beside him, Ron was providing an extra menacing glare for support.

"Calm down, Potter," said Ginny, smirking. "It was just after the Yule Ball."

"Those damned dance moves," mumbled Harry, slacking in his seat.

"You never told me the Dursleys only fed you chicken bones," said Hermione, looking up from the book.

"Well, that one's not too far from the truth." Harry shook his head with a wistful smile. "I wonder what they're up to."

"Dudley's probably punching someone over a belt," said Hermione. "Now that's a sport I don't understand: boxing. Utterly childish."

"You've thrown quite a few punches yourself," said Neville.

"Only with good reason," replied Hermione in a dignified tone.

"What I want to know is how it went with Dedalus," said Ron. "Of all people to handle a couple of magic-hating Muggles, they send Dally Ding-Dong."

"Hey, I like Dedalus," protested Harry, and Ron shrugged.

"It's final, by the way," said Neville. "I'm moving in with George in his flat above the joke shop."

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," said Ron automatically. "Better if you use the name."

"Right. Problem is it only has two bedrooms so I have to sleep in the same room as the Centaur because she can't leave yet."

"Centaurs sleep while standing," said Hermione without looking up from her book. "You won't have to share a bed."

"Oh, well, that's better, I s'pose..."

"Speaking of living situations," said Harry, glancing at Hermione and Ginny. "Fancy staying with us at Grimmauld Place? We've spruced it up a bit."

"You've only done one room and it's filled with posters of half-naked women," growled Hermione. Ginny narrowed her eyes.

"How'd you see that, anyway? I thought Patronuses could only send messages. I didn't know you could see through them."

"I was there," said Hermione, smirking. "In the other room."

"Sneaky," said Harry, raising his eyebrows. "I'm impressed. Why not come anyway?"

"I don't know," said Ginny. "Mum and dad might get lonely at the Burrow all by themselves."

"I reckon they could use a break, actually," said Ron. "They've basically had seven kids around for the past seven years."

"I know a Centaur that needs a home," said Harry, grinning. "Plenty of running space out in the Burrow."

"That's a great idea!" breathed Hermione. "We'll have to ask right away."

"Besides, what about the 'fun of decorating' you're always on about?" said Ron. "Come. There's plenty of room."

Hermione and Ginny shared a communicative look, then nodded in unison, beaming.

"What about you, Luna?" asked Harry.

"I'm traveling for a while with my father," said Luna. "I expect to return in a year or two, depending on how long it takes for us to locate the elusive Irish Snorkack."

"What will you two do?" asked Ginny, her eyes shifting between Neville and Luna.

"We've broken up," explained Neville, sighing. "It's for the best."

Harry noticed a rare frown on Luna's face and felt a pang in his chest. This was a girl who could probably make a Dementor giggle. He'd once seen her take a punch in the mouth from an adult Death Eater, and, after cursing him unconscious, smile happily with bloodied lips. Now she was quiet and sullen, staring out the window at a stream that ran under the small stone bridge over which the Hogwarts Express passed.

The group was yanked from their thoughts when the door swung open again, revealing the black-sleeved arm and shoulder of someone standing out of view.

"You guys go on, I'll just be a second," said a familiar voice. "Don't question me, Sean, just go. Pansy, stop your nagging."

By the time Draco Malfoy walked into their compartment, they'd already recognized his sneering voice and prepared their most hateful glares. Malfoy was slightly taken aback by the death-gazes, but continued to slide the door shut behind him and close the small curtain draped over the door's window.

"Hello," he said awkwardly.

"Hello," said Harry. Malfoy took a seat across from him, next to an icy-looking Neville.

"How are we today?"

* * *

"So _then_ this little son of a pureblood decides to strip down to his knickers and jump into the frozen pond!" howled Ron, wrapping his arm around the sniggering Harry and trapping him in a headlock.

"HA!" Malfoy's pointed face was scrunched up in laughter.

"Just wait until you hear what happened next," said Harry, smirking, but Ron cut him off.

"Nah, that's pretty much it. We destroyed the thing." Ron smiled innocently and Harry narrowed his eyes.

"_Merlin._" Malfoy sighed happily when his giggles died down and checked his watch. "Oh, look at the time. I almost forgot why I came in here."

He stood and stuffed his hand into his pocket, then withdrew a blue-and-gold pentagonal card and handed it to Ron. "Goyle's already got three of these."

Ron snatched the card hungrily, recognizing it as a Chocolate Frog card. All year he'd been looking for the Ron Weasley card, and now he was staring into his own face, with small illustrations of Harry and Hermione lurking in the background. He vaguely heard Malfoy exit the compartment as he read the text aloud.

_Ronald Bilius Weasley_

_Currently on the train home from graduating as Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One third of the famous Golden Trio that defeated the Dark Lord, this self-proclaimed 'Blood Traitor' is known to be a virtuoso of Wizard's Chess, rule-breaking, and wielding the Sword of Godric Gryffindor._

"_Wicked,_" breathed Ron. "I look good!"

"They forgot to add 'modest' to your description," said Ginny, smirking.

"It's true to life, too," continued Ron. "You're sort of pressing against me affectionately."

"I don't 'press against you,'" said Hermione.

"I was talking to Harry."

Ron began shifting and rotating the card, looking at himself from different angles and rereading the text. He'd just finished his third sweep of the card when the door slid open yet again and four Hufflepuff first-years filed in.

"You look like hell," observed a skinny boy with shoulder-length black hair and black boots.

"Werewolf," mumbled Ron distractedly. He then put his card up to the light of the window and attempted to see through it.

"I knew it!" cried a blonde boy with a crew cut and long jaw. "George wouldn't tell us why you look like a dead idiot at the beginning of every month!"

"_Ron!_ You weren't supposed to tell!" shouted Hermione. She thwacked Ron's shoulder with _Harry Potter and the Interview with Rita Skeeter_.

"What?" Ron was broken from his trance and looked away from the card, spotting the four Hufflepuff students, which he recognized as the Battle-Axe Bandits. "Oh. I have Spattergroit."

"Too late!" Elena Summers smiled. "So it's really not your fault your teeth are so bad."

"Yeah..."

Hermione stood and gripped Ron's sleeve, then tugged him towards the door. He hesitated for a moment, wishing to postpone the impending lecture, but eventually complied and followed the bushy-haired girl into the aisle and through to an empty compartment. She nudged him into a seat and sat across from him, looking to the ceiling as if wondering where to begin.

"It slipped," said Ron. "It's just the Bandits. They wouldn't blab if George told them not to."

"That's not why I've brought you here," said Hermione. Ron looked up and caught sight of her probing gaze. "What happened that night, out in the forest? You always stop Harry before he can continue the story."

"It's stupid." Ron scratched the back of his head subconsciously. "It's nothing."

"If something is, then, logically, it can't be nothing," reasoned Hermione. Ron stared blankly, so she continued, "Tell me."

"When we went to kill it, it sort of... fought back." Ron sighed. "It tried to talk to me - to scare me - talking about my family."

"Is that all?" Hermione frowned. "So why does Harry find it so amusing?"

"Because it mentioned you and him... together."

"What?" Hermione's eyes grew wide. "And you believed that?"

"It became hard to separate paranoia from reality when I wore that thing. It made everything worse. It probably targeted me because it sensed that I was the least secure, or that I had the most to lose, or maybe I was just the weakest."

"You should have told us." Hermione stood and crossed the room to sit next to Ron.

"What, that I was hearing voices? Seeing visions?" Ron scoffed. "You might have thought I'd gone mental, maybe lost too much blood."

"You _were_ mental if you thought Harry and I were romantically involved," said Hermione. "Did you question Harry when he heard voices?"

"No." Ron leaned back in his seat, resting his head against the wall of the compartment. "You're right, I suppose, but I wasn't thinking straight."

"What visions did you see?"

"Not really visions ... dreams, rather ... if I ever dozed off wearing it." Ron turned his head away from her to hide his red cheeks. "About you and Harry. Don't ask for details, please."

"Well, if you think this excuses what you did -"

"I know it doesn't," said Ron quickly, turning back to look at her. "Nothing could. I know, but, you've forgiven me, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have," replied Hermione with a small smile that soon faded.

"What's wrong?"

"How could you even think that?" Hermione's tone was accusatory. "When have I given you that impression?"

"You just always seemed to favor..." Ron's sentence faltered as he considered the question. The more he pondered, the more it seemed Hermione did not favor Harry over him at all; she had actually encouraged Ginny to pursue Harry, and given her advice on how - advice that worked.

Hermione would always scowl at Fleur for her effect on Ron, and she even cried and shunned him for weeks when he started dating Lavender - but she didn't care at all about Harry and Cho. In fact, she gave advice to Harry about handling Cho as well.

"Wow, I - Hermione, you're right, I was wrong, but now I see, there's no way you preferred him! I guess it just seemed that way because there was none of that awkward stuff between the two of you."

"Obviously." Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's just you - it's always just been you."

"I know that now."

"Do you? Or will we have to go through this again and again and again until I go mad?"

"Don't worry."

"That's what I'm saying to you," said Hermione, tilting her head and pausing in thought. "I'd like you to let Harry continue that story next time."

"Not a chance. It's too embarrassing and that little guy loves busting my chops."

* * *

"What's this rubbish?" demanded Sherman Roque, holding up a folded bit of parchment.

"_What's this rubbish?_" Harry chuckled. Ginny smirked beside him. "You hold in your hand a very powerful magical tool indeed."

"What are you talking about?" asked a tall asian boy with a shaved head, big ears and large front teeth. "It's just some parchment."

"When I was thirteen, Fred and George bequeathed this to me, and now I'm giving it to you. It's called the Marauder's Map."

"The Marauders?" the faces of the Battle-Axe Bandits lit up.

"Just tap it with your wand, and speak these words," said Harry, drawing his wand and prodding its tip to the parchment. "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._"

There were several ooh's and aah's when ink began to appear on the page as if spilling into a mold, forming a map of Hogwarts, with several labeled blips that indicated the whereabouts of the Hogwarts staff.

"It's sort of like radar," said Elena Summers, standing on her toes to peer over Roque's shoulder.

"What's Radar?" asked Ginny.

"It's a muggle device," said Harry, raising an eyebrow. "Are you a Muggleborn, Elena?"

"We're quite familiar with Muggle stuff," said Roque, distracted by the piece of parchment in his hand. "Blackboot and I are half-blood. Munky and Ellie are Muggleborn."

"All right." Harry smiled. "Yes, it's like radar, but much better. It shows everyone in Hogwarts; who they are, where they are..."

"Brilliant!" said Blackboot, snatching the map from Roque as Hermione walked in and sat, followed by Ron.

"You can't be serious!" growled Ron. "You're giving these fools the map? Do you want to see Hogwarts destroyed?"

"One condition," said Harry, ignoring Ron. "Give it back when you graduate."

"No problem." Roque smiled. "Won't need it once we're out of Hogwarts anyway."

"Perhaps we should warn them?" said Munky. Roque nodded.

"Of what?" asked Neville.

"Just be sure not to roam the aisles from now on," said Blackboot slickly. "They'll be a bit ... waterlogged."

"What have you little bludgers done?" growled Ron.

"Take care!" said Roque, barely evading Ron's clutches and dashing off towards the front of the train car with his fellow Bandits.

"It's the portable swamp," said Harry, widening his eyes. "They're going to set it off on the train!"

The six D.A. leaders got up from their seats and peeked their heads out into the aisle just in time to see a torrent of murky green water splashing through the train car, filling any open compartments up to the students' waists.

The whole train had a turquoise glow as all light coming through the windows was filtered by green slime. Several vines were sprouting from the ceiling and hanging down from the luggage racks.

"Back in the compartment!" cried Ginny.

They closed the door quickly, but not before two young men barreled into the room, charging into the crowd of D.A. leaders and scrambling them over the floor..

"Dean! Seamus!"

"Phew," said Dean. "Barely outran that water."

"Imagine what'll happen when we arrive at King's Cross," said Seamus. "Little devils."

"This is all my fault," said Neville, his face in his hands.

"No, it's not," said Harry. "They were there that day when you bought the Portable Swamp. George doesn't sell those to people under the age of fifteen - they're too dangerous - so I doubt he gave them to the Bandits. There might be a Ministry inquiry..."

After a few minutes passed, in a soundscape of wet splashes, the shouts of angry students, laughing Bandits and utter chaos, Harry saw the four Hufflepuffs rowing past their compartment in a small wooden canoe, floating atop waist-high water.

"Oh, that's not suspicious or anything, having a canoe handy," said Ginny.

"Good thing we got out after just one year of them," said Ron. "So, Dean, what're you going to do now that it's over? Not travelling, are you?"

"No, I'll definitely be in touch. I'm going to become a Magical Artist."

"What about you, Seamus?"

"Well me Quidditch career never took off, did it?" Seamus nudged Ginny with a grin. "Probably going to enter the family business n' be a tailor."

"That's odd," said Harry. "I had you pegged for an Auror."

"Nah, not anymore, Harry," continued Seamus. "Ernie's going that way, though; says he'll be starting straight away. We've just been visiting everyone on our way down to this car."

"Lavender's said she wants to try modeling," added Dean. "As a painter, I thought I might strike while that iron's hot, if you know what I mean. I know you do," he added, waggling his eyebrows at Ron, who feigned innocence.

"And Parvati?" asked Harry quickly before Hermione could speak up.

"She said she wouldn't mind a Ministry job."

"I hear 'Senior Undersecretary to the Minister' is available," said Ginny. There was a collective sigh of happiness and amusement.

"What about Justin?"

"Had to talk him out of a Muggle job," said Seamus. "He wanted to be one of those nutters that stitched people's skin!"

"Who would pay someone to do that?" said Ron. "Bet they make next to nothing. Think logically here."

"He's trying for Healer instead," said Dean. "Hannah's got a job at the Leaky, too."

Neville raised his eyebrows. "Really? That's not a bad place to work, is it?"

"Not at all," said Harry. "Excepting the pea soup."

"What about Malfoy?" mumbled Ron. "Got a job at Borgin and Burke's, has he?"

"Don't know. Didn't ask."

"I've heard Goyle's gone into the profession of being chased away by angry townspeople with pitchforks and torches," said Dean, sniggering.

"What about you, Hermione?" asked Seamus.

"I want to make a difference," said Hermione. "For the House Elves and the Muggleborns."

"I knew it," said Ron. "You were destined to fix this place up."

Hermione smiled and returned to her book.

"Smooth talker," observed Dean, nodding to Neville. "What about you, Nev?"

"I've got a job at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for now. George's opening up a Hogsmeade branch, so I guess I'll be around Hogsmeade after all."

"And Luna?"

"I'm travelling with my father," she said briskly.

"Ginny?" asked Seamus.

"I'm trying out for the Harpies. If not, I might consider being an Auror."

"Harry? Ron?" asked Dean. "As if I need to ask."

"Aurors," they said in unison.

"Mates," sighed Dean. "I was so lucky to be in this year. We were the revolution, weren't we? Dumbledore's Army... how many students here aren't just classmates, but shield-brothers?"

Ginny cleared her throat, and, after noticing this, Ron smirked.

"Yeah, anyone who wasn't in our year really missed out."

"I don't know about that," said Hermione. "Not many of the younger students spent their Hogwarts years merely trying to survive."

They continued in conversation until the train rolled into King's Cross station, beside Platform Nine and Three Quarters. When the train's doors slid open, the smiling parents and guardians of returning students were drenched by the downpour of hazy green swamp water. The Bandits could be seen riding the waves out of the station, emitting sinister cackles, and Percy could be heard with repeated use of the word 'outrageous.' Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Neville, Seamus, and Dean stepped out onto the platform, off to their new lives.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. It was fun to write, and I hope it was fun to read. There will be a sequel soon so keep your ear to the ground.


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